CHAPTER XXVIII.
FRANZ FRANCOISE BELLIGERENT.
After the departure of the Sister of Mercy, an unnatural silence broodedover the room; a silence, not a stillness, for Mamma Francoise, utteringno word, dragged the unfortunate Nance to one of the pallets, forced theremainder of the warm liquor down her throat, and then pushed her backupon the pallet, where she lay a dirty, moveless, stupid heap ofwretched humanity.
Then Mamma seated herself upon the one unoccupied stool, and glaredalternately at the two men.
Papa Francoise was evidently both disturbed and alarmed at this visitfrom the Sister of Mercy, and he seemed intent upon solving some newproblem propounded to him by the scene just ended.
Franz leered and lounged, with seeming indifference to all hissurroundings. His recent potations were evidently taking effect, forafter a few moments, during which he made very visible efforts to lookalert, and interested in the discussion which, as he seemed vaguely torealize, was impending, he brought himself unsteadily to his feet,staggered across the room, and flinging himself upon the unoccupiedpallet, muttered some incoherent words and subsided into stillness andslumber.
The eyes of the old woman followed his movements with anxious interest,and when he seemed at last lost to all ordinary sound, she arose andcarried her stool across to where Papa, leaning against the table, stillmeditated.
"Sit down," she said, in low, peremptory tones, and pushing the stoollately vacated by Franz toward her spouse; "sit down. We're in a prettymess, ain't we?"
Papa seated himself and favored her with a vacant stare.
"Eh!" he said, absently; "what's to be done?"
Mamma cast a quick look toward her recumbent Prodigal, and leanedforward until her lips touched the old man's ear.
"Mind this," she hissed; "_he_ ain't to know too much. He's got thedevil in him; it won't do to put ourselves under his thumb."
"Don't you worry," retorted Papa, in the same sharp whisper, "I ain'tanxious to be rode by the two of ye; Franzy's too much like his ma. Itwon't do to let him know everything."
Mamma gave a derisive sniff, a sort of acknowledgment of thecompliment--one of the only kind ever paid her by her worser half,--andthen said:
"Franzy'll be a big help to us, if we can keep him away from the cops.But you an' me has planned too long to let him step in now an' takethings out of our hands. He's too reckless; we wouldn't move fast enoughto suit him, an'--he'd make us trouble."
"Yes," assented the old man, "he'd have things his own way, or he'd makeus trouble; he always did."
Mamma arose, stirred the smouldering fire, and resuming her seat, beganafresh:
"Now, then, we've got to decide about that gal. She can't go to nohospital?"
"No; she can't."
"And she can't stay with us. It was a big risk before; now that Franzyis back, it's a bigger risk."
"That's so." Papa wrinkled his brows for a moment and then said: "Seehere, old woman, Franz'll be bound ter know something about that galwhen he gits his head clear."
"I s'pose so."
"Well, s'pose we tell him about her."
"What for?"
"Ter satisfy him, an' ter git his help."
"His help?" muttered Mamma. "That might do."
Suddenly Papa lifted a warning finger. "Hush," he whispered; "there'ssomebody outside o' that door."
A low, firm knock put a period to his sentence. Mamma made a sign whichmeant caution, and then creeping noiselessly to the door, listened. Nosound could be heard from without, and after another moment of waitingshe called sharply:
"Who's there?"
"Open de do'; I's got a message fo' yo'."
The voice, and the unmistakable African dialect, reassured the pair,whose only dread was the police; and to barricade their doors againstchance visitors was no part of the Francoise policy.
Mamma glided toward the pallet where lay her returned Prodigal, and bentabove him.
His face was turned outward toward the door, and putting two stronghands beneath his shoulders, she applied her strength to the task ofrolling him over, drew a ragged blanket well up about him, and left himlying thus, his face to the wall and completely hidden from whoevermight enter.
Then she went boldly to the door, and opening it wide, stood face toface with a tall African, black as ebony, and wearing a fine suit ofbroadcloth, poorly concealed underneath a shabby outer garment. He bowedto Mamma as obsequiously as if she were a duchess, and this garret herdrawing-room, and stepping inside, closed the door behind him.
"You will excuse me," he said, politely, "but my business is private,and some one might come up the stairs."
"What do you want?"
The incautious words were uttered by Papa Francoise, who, noting theentire absence of his negro accent, arose hastily, his face full ofalarm.
The African smiled blandly.
"I assumed my accent in order to reassure you, sir," he said, coolly."You might not have admitted me if you had thought me a white man, and Iam sent by your patron."
"By our patron!" Mamma echoed his words in skeptical surprise.
"Yes; I am his servant."
Papa and Mamma gazed at each other blankly and drew nearer together.
"He has sent you this note," pursued the nonchalant fellow, keeping hiseyes fixed upon Mamma's face while he drew from his pocket a foldedpaper. "And I am to take your answer."
Papa took the proffered note reluctantly, glanced at the superscription,and suddenly changed his manner.
"That is not directed to me," he cried, sharply. "You have made amistake."
"It is directed to Papa Francoise."
Papa peered closer at the superscription. "Yes; I think that's it. It'snot my name; it's not for me."
"My dear sir, I know you too well. You need not fear me; I am Mr.Warburton's body servant."
"Oh!" Mamma uttered the syllable sharply, then suddenly restrainedherself, and coming toward the messenger with cat-like tread, she said,coaxingly: "And who may this Mr. War--war, this master of yours be?"
The man looked from one to the other, and then turned his gaze upon theoccupants of the two pallets. "Who are these?" he asked, briefly.
Mamma's answer came very promptly.
"Only two poor people we knew in another part of the city. They havebeen turned out by their landlord, poor things, and last night theyslept in the street."
A smile crossed the face of the wily African, and he turned toward Papa.
"Read my master's note, if you please," he said. "It was written to_you_."
Slowly Papa unfolded the note, and his eyes seemed bursting from theirsockets as he read.
Name your price, but keep your whereabouts from the police. If you are called upon to identify me, _you do not know me_.
* * * * *
While Papa reads, the slumbering Franz begins to move and to mutter.
"Give me the file, Jim," he says, in a low, cautious tone. "Curse thedarbies--I--"
The sudden overturning of a stool, caused by a quick backward movementon the part of Mamma, drowns the rest of this muttered speech.
But the words have caught the ear of the colored gentleman, who moves apace nearer the sleeper, and seems anxious to hear more.
While Papa still stares at the note in his hand, Mamma stoops andrestores the stool to its upright position, making even more noise thanin the overturning. And Franz turns, yawns, stretches, and slowly bringshimself to a sitting posture.
Something like a frown crosses the dark face of Papa Francoise'svisitor. To bring himself face to face with Papa, and to satisfy himselfon certain doubtful points, he has paused for neither food nor rest, buthas followed up his discovery of the morning, by an evening's visit tothe new lurking-place of the Francoises,--for the sable gentleman, whowould fain win the confidence of Papa in the character of body servantto Alan Warburton, is none other than Van Vernet.
Fertile in construction, daring in execution, he has hoped
by a boldstroke to make a most important discovery. Viewing the events of themorning from a perfectly natural standpoint, he has rapidly reached thefollowing conclusion:
If the fugitive Sailor and Alan Warburton are one and the same, then,undoubtedly, the message left by Mamma at the door of the Warburtons wasintended for Alan. What was the purport of that message, he may find itdifficult to discover,--but may he not be able to surprise from Papa anacknowledgment of his connection with the aristocrat of Warburton place?
To arrest the Francoises was, at present, no part of his plan. Thiswould be to alarm Alan Warburton, and to lessen his own chances formaking discoveries. He had found Papa Francoise, and it would be strangeif he again escaped from his surveillance.
He had not counted upon the presence of a third, and even a fourthparty, in paying his visit to the Francoises. And now, as the recumbentFranz began to move and to mutter, Van Vernet turned toward the pallet akeen and suspicious glance.
But never was there a more manifest combination of drowsiness anddrunken stupidity than that displayed upon the face of Franz, as heraised himself upon the pallet and stared stupidly at the eboniedstranger.
Then a look of abject terror crept into his face, and he seemed making apowerful effort to rouse his drunken faculties. Slowly he rose from thepallet, and staggered to his feet, muttering some unintelligible words.Then, after a stealthy glance about the room, he turned and reeledtoward the door.
As he approached, Van Vernet, still gazing steadfastly into his face,stepped aside, and at the instant Franz made a lurch in the samedirection.
In another moment,--neither Papa nor Mamma could have told how it cameabout,--the two were upon the floor, Franz Francoise uppermost, hisknees upon the breast of his antagonist!
As Van Vernet, who had fallen with one arm underneath him, made hisfirst movement in self-defence, his ears were greeted by a warning hiss,and he felt the pressure of a keen-edged knife against his throat!