CHAPTER XXVI
AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
I don't know what they thought of me, probably that I was crazy. For agood minute, a long sixty seconds, I simply stood and stared. The duke'sblue uniform, his wife's black-gowned figure, and the white, radiantblur that was Miss Falconer revolved about me in spinning, starrycircles. I gasped, put out a hand, fortunately encountered Dunny'sshoulder, and, leaning heavily on that perplexed person, at last gotback my intelligence and my breath.
"Won't you shake hands with me, Mr. Bayne?" smiled the Duchess ofRaincy-la-Tour.
I was virtually sane again.
"I do hope," I said, "that you will forgive me. Not that I see theslightest reason why you should, I am sure. Life is too short to wipeout such a bad impression. I know how you'll remember me all your days;as an idiot with a head done up in layers of toweling, wobbling on twocrutches and gaping at you like a fish."
But the duchess was still holding my hand in both of hers and smilingup at me from a pair of great, dark, tender eyes, the loveliest pairof eyes in the world, bar one. No, bar none, to be quite fair. TheFirefly's wife, most people would have said, was more beautiful than hersister; but then, beauty is what pleases you, as some wise man remarkedlong ago.
"I don't believe, Mr. Bayne," she was saying gently, "that I shallever remember you in any unpleasant way. You see, I know about thosebandages, and I know why you need those crutches. Even if you were vain,you wouldn't mind the things I think of you--not at all."
I lack any clear recollection of the quarter of an hour that followed.I know that we talked and laughed and were very friendly and verycheerful, and that Dunny's eyes, as they studied me, began to holda gleam of intelligence, as if he were guessing something about thereasons for my former black despondency. I recall that the duke's handwas on my shoulder, and that--odd how one's attitude can change!--Iliked to feel it. We were going to be great friends, tremendous pals, Isuspected. And every time I looked at the duchess she seemed lovelier,more gracious; she was the very wife I would have chosen for such acorking chap.
This, however, was by the way. None of it really mattered. While I paidcompliments and supplied details as to my convalescence and answeredDunny's chaffing, I saw only one member of the party, the girl in white.She was rather silent; she gave me only fugitive glances. But she wasn'tengaged, at least not to the Firefly. Hurrah!
What an agonizing, heart-rending, utterly unnecessary experience I hadendured, now that I thought of it! I had jumped to conclusions with theagility of a kangaroo. He had kissed her; she had allowed it. Did thatprove that he was her fiance? He might have been anything--her cousinor an old friend of her childhood, or her sister's husband's nephew. Butbrother-in-law was best of all, not too remote or yet too close. In thatrelationship, I decided, he was ideal.
By this time I was wondering how long we were to stand here exchangingideas and persiflage, an animated group of five. The duke and duchesswere charming, but I had had enough of them; I could have sparedeven good old Dunny; what I wanted, and wanted frantically, was atete-a-tete; just Esme Falconer and myself. When I saw two automobiles,packed imposingly with uniformed figures, speed up the drive to thechateau, hope stirred in me. With suppressed joy,--I trust it wassuppressed,--I heard the duke exclaim that this was General Le Cazeau,due to visit the hospital with his staff and greet the wounded andbestow on certain lucky beings the reward of their valor in the shape ofmedals of war. Obviously, it would have been inexcusable for the masterand mistress of Raincy-la-Tour to ignore a visitor so distinguished. Imade no protest whatever as they turned to go.
"But, Miss Falconer," I implored fervently, "you won't desert me, willyou? Pity a poor _blesse_ that no general cares two straws to see!"
She smiled, an omen that encouraged me to send Dunny a look of meaning;but my guardian, bless him, had grasped the situation; he was alreadygone.
Down by the water among the trees there was a marble bench, and withone accord we turned our steps that way. I emphasized my game legshamelessly; I positively flourished my crutches. My battle scars, Iguessed from the girl's kind eyes, appealed to her compassion, and assoon as I suspected this I thanked my stars for that German shell.
"Isn't there anything," she said as we sat down, "that you want to askme? I think I should be curious if I were you. After all we have donetogether there isn't much beyond my name that you know of me, and youknew that in Jersey City the night the _Re d'Italia_ sailed."
I shook my head.
"There is just one thing I wanted to know," I answered cryptically, "andI learned that when your brother-in-law presented me to his wife. Still,there is nothing on earth you can tell me that I shan't be glad tolisten to. Say the multiplication table if you like, or recite cook-bookrecipes. Anything--if you'll only stay!"
Little golden flickers of sunshine came stealing through the branches,dancing, as the girl talked, on her gown and in her hair. I looked morethan I listened. I had been starved for a sight of her. And my eyes musthave told my thoughts; for a flush crept into her cheeks, and her lashesfluttered, and she looked not at me, but across the swan-dotted laketoward the towers of Raincy-la-Tour.
After all there was little that I had not guessed already; but eachdetail held its magic, because it was she who spoke. If she had said "Ilike oranges and lemons," the statement would have held me spellbound.I sat raptly gazing while she told me of herself and her sister Enid;of their life, after the death of their parents, with an aunt whose homewas in Pittsburgh, of their travels; and of a winter at Nice, four yearsago, when the blue of the skies and seas and the whiteness of the sandsand the green of the palms had all seemed created to frame the meetingand the love affair of Enid Falconer and the young nobleman who was nowknown to the world as the Firefly of France.
Their marriage had proved an ideal one, as happy as it was brilliant.Esme, thereafter had spent half her time in Europe with her sister, halfin America with her aunt, who was growing old. Then had come the war. Atfirst it had covered the duke with laurels. But a certain dark day hadbrought a cable from the duchess, telling of his disappearance and thesuspicion that surrounded it; and Esme, despite her aunt's entreaties,had promptly taken passage on the next ship that sailed.
"I had meant to go within a month, as a Red Cross nurse," she told me."I had my passport, and I had taken a course. Well, I came on to NewYork and spent the night there. Aunt Alice telegraphed to her lawyer,the dearest, primmest old fellow, and he dined with me, protesting allthe time against my sailing. I saw you in the St. Ives restaurant. Didyou see us?"
"Let me think." I pretended to rack my brains. "I believe I do recallsomething, in a hazy sort of way. You had on a rose-colored gown thatwas distinctly wonderful, and when we tracked the German to the door ofyour room, you were wearing an evening coat, bright blue. But the mainthing was your hair!" Here I became lyric. "An oak-leaf in the sunlight,Miss Falconer! Threads of gold!"
But she ignored me, very properly, and shifted the scene from hotelto steamer, where Franz von Blenheim, in the guise of Van Blarcom, hadgiven her a fright. As she exhibited her passport at the gang-plank, hehad read her name across her shoulder; then he had claimed acquaintancewith her, a claim that she knew was false.
"And he wasn't impertinent. That was the worst of it," she faltered. "Hedid it--well--accusingly. I had known all along that any one who knew ofJean's marriage would recognize my name. And Jean was suspected, andthe French are strict; if they were warned, they would not let me enterFrance; they would think I had come spying. I was afraid. Then, afterdinner, I went on deck and found you standing by the railing readingthat paper with its staring headlines about Jean."
"Of course!" I exclaimed. At last I fathomed that puzzling episode."You thought the paper might speak of the duke's marriage, that it mightmention your sister's name. In that case, if it stayed on board, itmight be seen by the captain or by an officer, and they would guess whoyou were and warn the authorities when we got to shore."
"Yes. That was why I borro
wed it. And I was right, I discovered; just atthe end the account said that Jean had married an American, a Miss EnidFalconer, four years ago. Then I asked you to throw it overboard, Mr.Bayne; and you were wonderful. You must have thought I was mad, but youdidn't flutter an eyelid or even smile. I have never forgotten--and I'venever forgiven myself either. When I think of how the steward sawyou and told the captain, and of how they searched your baggage thatdreadful day--"
"It didn't matter a brass farden!" I hastened to assure her, for she hadpaused and was gazing at me, large-eyed and pale. "Don't think of thatany more. Suppose we skip to Paris! Blenheim followed you there, hopinghe was on the scent of the vanished papers; and when you arrived at therue St.-Dominique, there was still no news of the duke."
"No news," she mourned; "not a word. And Enid was ill and hopeless;from the very first she had felt sure that Jean was dead. But I wouldn'tadmit it. I said we must try to find him. All the way over in thesteamer I had been making a sort of plan.
"You see, one of the papers had described how the French had foundJean's airship lying in the forest of La Fay, as if he had abandoned itfrom choice. That was considered proof of his treason; but of course Iknew that it wasn't. I remembered that the Marquis of Prezelay, Jean'scousin, had a castle on the forest outskirts; I had been to visit itwith Jean and Enid. I wondered if he might be there.
"The more I thought of it, the likelier it seemed. If he had beenwounded and had wanted to hide his papers, he would have remembered thecastle and the secret panel in the wall. Even if he were--dead, which Iwouldn't believe, it would clear his name if I found the proof of it. SoI told Enid I would go to Prezelay."
I was resting my arms on my knees and groaning softly.
"Oh, Lord, oh, Lord!" I murmured, wishing I could stop my ears. When Ithought of that brave venture of the girl's and its perils and whathad nearly come of it I found myself shuddering; and yet I was growingprouder of her with every word.
"What comes next," she confessed, "is terrible. I can hardly believeit. As I look back, it seems to me that we were all a little mad. To getthrough the war zone to Prezelay I had to have certain papers; and I gotthem from an American girl, an old friend of Enid's and of mine, MarieLe Clair. The morning I arrived in Paris she came to say good-bye toEnid. She was acting as a Red Cross nurse, and they were sending her tothe hospital at Carrefonds to take the first consignment of the greatnew remedy for burns and scars. Carrefonds is very near Prezelay. It allcame to me in a moment. I told her how matters stood and how Enid wasdying little by little, just for lack of any sure knowledge. She gave methe papers she had for herself and her chauffeur, Jacques Carton, and Iused them for myself and for Georges, Jean's foster-brother, who wasat home from the Front on leave and was staying in his old room at thehouse."
"Great Caesar's ghost!" I sputtered. "You didn't--you don't mean to saythat--Why, good heavens, didn't you know--?"
Then I petered off into silence; words were too weak for my emotions.She had seen the risk of course, and so had the girl who had helped her;but with the incredible bravery of women, they had acted with open eyes.
"Yes," she faltered; "I told you I felt mad, looking back at it. ButMarie is safe now; Jean has worked for her, and his relatives andfriends have helped, and the minister of war. It was the only way. Undermy own name I could never have got leave to enter the war zone whileJean was missing and suspected--What is the matter, Mr. Bayne?" For oncemore I had groaned aloud.
"Simply," I cried stormily, "that I can't bear thinking of it! The ideaof your taking risks, of your daring the police and the Germans--you whooughtn't to know what the word danger means! I tell you I can't standit. Wasn't there some man to do it for you? Well, it's over now; and inthe future--See here, Miss Falconer, I can't wait any longer. There issomething I've got to say."
But I was not to say it yet, for, behold! just as my tongue wasloosened, I became aware of a most distinguished galaxy approaching usround the lake. All save one of its members--Dunny, to be exact--were inuniform; and the personage in the lead, walking between my guardian andthe duke of Raincy-la-Tour, was truly dazzling, being arrayed in a bluecoat and spectacularly red trousers and wearing as a finishing touch ared cap freely braided with gold. Miss Falconer had risen.
"Why," she exclaimed, "it is General Le Cazeau!"
"Then confound General Le Cazeau!" was my inhospitably cry.
He was, I saw when he drew close, a person of stately dignity, asindeed the hero who had saved Merlancourt and broken that last furious,desperate, senseless onslaught of the Boches ought by rights to be.Perhaps his splendor made me nervous. At any rate, my conscience smoteme. I remembered with sudden panic all my manifold transgressions,beginning with the hour when I had chucked reason overboard and haddeliberately concealed a murdered man's body beneath a heap of straw.
"I believe," I gasped, "that this is an informal court martial. Nobodycould do the things I have done and be allowed to live. Still, I don'tsee why they cured me if they were going to hang or shoot me."
I struggled up with the help of my crutches and stood waiting my doom.
The group had paused before us, and presentations followed, throughoutwhich the master of ceremonies was the Firefly of France. Then thegray-headed general fixed me with a keen, stern gaze rather like aneagle's.
"Your affair, Monsieur, has been of an irregularity," he said.
As with kaleidoscopic swiftness the details of my "affair" passedthrough my memory, it was only by an effort that I restrained anindecorous shout. He was correct. I could call to mind no single featurethat had been "regular," from the thief who was not a thief and hadflown out of my window like a conjurer, to the fight in Prezelay castlewhere I had vanquished four husky Germans, mostly by the aid of a woodentable, of all implements on earth.
"It is too true, _Monsieur le General_," I assented promptly. Myhumility seemed to soften him; he relaxed; he even approached a smile.
"Of an irregularity," he repeated. "But also it was of a gallantry. Witha boldness and a resource and a scorn for danger that, permit me to say,mark your compatriots, you have unmasked and handed over to us one ofour most dangerous foes. For such service as you have rendered France isnever ungrateful. And, moreover, there have been friends to plead yourcause and to plead it well."
As he ended he cast a glance at the Duke of Raincy-la-Tour and one atDunny, whereupon I was enlightened as to the purpose of my guardian'sthree trips to Paris the preceding week. I believe I have said beforethat Dunny knows every one, everywhere; in fact, I have always felt thatshould circumstances conspire to make me temporarily adopt a life ofcrime, he could manage to pull such wires as would reinstate me in thepublic eye. But the general was stepping close to me.
"Monsieur," he was saying, "we are now allies, my country and the greatnation of which you are a son. Very soon your troops are coming. Youwill fight on our soil, beneath your own banner. But your first bloodwas shed for France, your first wounds borne for her, Monsieur; and ingratitude she offers you this medal of her brave."
He was pinning something to my coat, a bronze-colored, cross-shapedsomething, a decoration that swung proudly from a ribbon of red andgreen. I knew it well; I had seen it on the breasts of generals,captains, simple poilus, all the picked flower of the French nation.With a thrill I looked down upon it. It was the Cross of War.