Terence O'Rourke/Part 1/Chapter 14
CHAPTER XIV
HE ACTS BY THE CODE
An irregular oval in form, in extent about three acres, the oasis, El Kebr, nourished around three wells.
Probably these had been sunk in ancient times, before the records of man, when this desert of the Sahara had been a fertile land, well-watered and luxuriant of vegetation, supporting an immense population. The age-old masonry about their curbs attested to the truth of this surmise, and might have afforded interesting material for the antiquarian.
From the wells it radiated—the oasis—a wilderness of green growing things, interspersed with the slim, towering boles of a grove of date palms; but the sands were ever insidiously creeping, creeping in toward the water; year by year the acreage of verdure was diminishing, and, left to nature, it was only a question of time ere the desert would hold full sway, even to the lips of the life-giving wells, which, too, were doomed to be choked and lost.
But for the present it sufficed for the purposes of Monsieur l'Empereur, Leopold le Premier. It was settled upon by him to be the site of his capital city of the future—Troya, as he already called it in the fervor of his magnificent imagination.
O'Rourke came to El Kebr, early in the following dawn, at the head of a party of reconnaissance. It was apparent that the Tawarek, Ibeni, had kept faith in regard to his departure with his men; satisfied he undoubtedly had been to have extorted tribute money from the invaders, after sustaining at their hands a putative defeat; and there was nought to be gained by lingering in the vicinity—unless it were a gratification of his curiosity.
On the route to the oasis, however, no sign of a Tawarek had been seen by O'Rourke's command; and it was there only that the natives had left traces of their camp about the wells.
O'Rourke returned to the Eirene, and reported, advising his majesty that there was in his judgment no cause to fear another attack. Preparations were accordingly put forward with all haste toward the landing of provisions, the tents, and varied paraphernalia with which the yacht had been laden with a view to making existence in the desert endurable.
For it had been decided at a protracted session of the council (which was suddenly subservient to the will of O'Rourke) that Lemercier and his party would not return to Las Palmas with the yacht; they were to land and make a settlement—in a way as proof of their good intentions: a first definite move toward the establishment of the Empire of the Sahara.
Even Madame la Princesse was determined to stay by the side of her brother, and positively refused to put herself out of possible danger by returning to Europe, as she had been urged to do by the party.
Chambret alone was to go with the wounded, intrusted also with other commissions than that of seeing Danny and his fellows safely in hospital.
Portable houses had been bought in large numbers by Lemercier before starting upon his expedition; they should by that time have arrived at Las Palmas, if the contractors had kept their words about shipment.
These Chambret was to see stowed aboard the Eirene, and he was furthermore to enlist a force of workingmen, as many as he might be able to engage, to come to the oasis—masons, builders, carpenters, plasterers, and others of kindred crafts.
These were, primarily of course, needed for the building of the city of Troya; later, Monsieur l'Empereur hoped he might be able to induce them to stay and become colonists. Since early dawn the men had been busy lightening the yacht of its stores; it was slow business, for the vessel could not get near inshore, and all transportation had to be accomplished by means of boats and a couple of portable catamaran rafts.
It was eleven in the evening, or later, as O'Rourke sat in his tent in the oasis, having one final talk with the Frenchman, Chambret; the Eirene was to sail as soon as the last of the cargo was ashore, but her captain estimated that that would not be until two in the morning at the earliest.
Chambret, therefore, had plenty of time at his disposal.
"And Danny?" O'Rourke was asking him, for the Frenchman had just returned from the vessel.
"In the same condition—comatose," replied Chambret; "but his temperature is lower; I don't think you need fear for him. If he holds as he is until we reach Las Palmas, he'll pull through all right."
"'Tis the delay that worries me," put in O'Rourke. "I had to consent to it, ye know; I couldn't make me newly asserted rule too dictatorial to start with."
"No," laughed Chambret.
He rose and walked to the front of the tent, drawing back the flap and looking out; and the Irishman joined him.
"'Tis a thriving settlement we have, monsieur," he suggested.
Near at hand was the elaborate marquee of Monsieur l'Empereur, glowing with light. By its side stood another, almost as imposing a tent, which had been erected for the use of Madame la Princesse alone. Farther removed were others—tents for Monsieur le Prince, for Mouchon and D'Ervy (whom O'Rourke could hit upon no plausible excuse for banishing), as well as for the soldiery and the servants.
As the two stood watching, a corporal's guard of soldiers marched past under one whom O'Rourke had appointed a petty officer, until such time as he should get his organization perfected.
"Going to change the sentries," remarked O'Rourke. "'Tis near midnight. Faith," he yawned wearily, "a long day it has been for me!"
"You've posted a guard, then?"
"All around the edge of the oasis. I don't trust monsieur, the Tawarek, any farther than I can see him. From as much as I observed of Ibeni, or whatever his name is, he's a chap that is likely to keep his word; but we'll take care to hold him at his distance, anyway."
"And Monsieur le Prince?"
"Oh—fudge! "cried O'Rourke good-humoredly. "Does the man still worry ye? Why, monsieur, he's down and out—a wind bag perforated."
"Don't be too sure. He is—"
As Chambret spoke he let the tent flap fall, and turned back to his chair. O'Rourke remained standing, his hands clasped behind him, laughing at Chambret's fears. Abruptly he chopped the laugh off short.
A shot rang through the camp.
O'Rourke wheeled about.
"Tawareks—so soon!" he cried.
But Chambret suddenly seized him by the arm, pulling him away from the door of the tent. At the same time he stooped over and extinguished the lamp with a swift twist of the wick.
"Not so fast!" he cried. "Do you seek death, mon ami?"
"What the divvle—?" demanded O'Rourke.
"That was no Tawarek shot, monsieur. It was a Mauser."
Enlightenment began to dawn in the Irishman's eyes.
"D'ye mean—?"
"Monsieur le Prince? Certainly—who else? Observe, monsieur!"
He indicated two dark holes in the white wall of the tent, seemingly on a direct line with the position of O'Rourke's head as he had been standing when the shot was fired.
"Assassination!" gasped the Irishman.
"Ah, Monsieur le Prince bears a grudge, be sure!" Chambret laughed shortly. "Had you stepped forth then the assassin would have shot again. You can thank me for saving your life. No matter—I shall claim it some day," he added.
"Faith!" said O'Rourke absently. "I'll try to give ye a run for your money, mon ami." He paused, thinking, for a moment. "Come," he said sharply; and hurriedly he left the tent.
Without there was confusion and a running to arms. O'Rourke desired to humor this for the present, having no mind to disclose his suspicions as to the man who had fired the shot. Giving orders to warn the pickets to redoubled vigilance he made a round of them in person, accompanied by Chambret; and finally returned to the guard tent.
A Spahi was there—a tall, gangling, bronzed fellow, who had known the desert since childhood; an Algerian of European parentage. O'Rourke called to him.
"Find the man Soly," he said softly, in the Spahi's ear, "and bring him to me at once. Don't make any fuss—but shoot him like a dog if he resists. Also, bring me his arms."
His Spahi saluted, and walked carelessly away, with the air of one on no pressing errand. O'Rourke watched him out of sight, into the shadows of the palms, with an approving hod. "A good man, that; I'll remember him."
He returned to his tent, entered and relit the lamp. Chambret protested against this heedless courting of danger, but the Irishman remained obdurate. "No more trouble to to-night," he insisted.
Within ten minutes the Spahi had returned, Soly in his charge; he scratched upon the canvas wall, and upon receiving permission entered. His prisoner preceded him, with an alacrity that might have been accounted for by a revolver, half concealed, in the Spahi's hand.
O'Rourke placed himself behind his table; his own revolver lay upon it, and he fingered it nervously, looking Soly over with a placid brow. But when he spoke, he first addressed the Spahi.
"Can ye keep a quiet tongue in your head, me man?" he asked.
The Spahi saluted. "Yes, mon général."
"See that you do—lieutenant."
The Spahi flushed with pleasure; O'Rourke silenced his thanks with a gesture.
"Where did ye find this man?" he asked briskly.
"In his tent, monsieur."
"What was he doing?"
"Cleaning a rifle, monsieur."
"His own?"
"Non, monsieur—one belonging to his tentmate."
"So!" O'Rourke paused; his eyes, resting upon the ex-member of the "condemned corps," grew flintlike—hard and cold. "So," he repeated thoughtfully; then, sharply: "Ye try to assassinate me with your comrade's rifle, do ye?"
"Non, monsieur le général—"
The words died on Soly's lips; he was gazing with deep interest into the muzzle of O'Rourke's revolver.
"Tell the truth, ye whelp," thundered the Irishman, "or I'll brain ye! Now—ye shot at me just now?"
Soly hesitated.
"Oui," he admitted at last, sullenly.
"Good. Why?"
Soly was silent.
"I give ye two minutes to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. At whose instance did ye attempt to assassinate me?"
Soly threw back his head defiantly; but the muzzle of the revolver still held his attention. It was inflexible. Moreover, the watch of Chambret lay ticking under the Irishman's eye.
"One minute!" O'Rourke announced. Later: "And a half."
"Monsieur le Prince," Soly blurted desperately.
"Ah! Thank ye. Lieutenant, take this man, and guard him for the night."
The Spahi saluted, wheeled about, and deftly pinioned the wrists of Soly. They left O'Rourke's presence in the closest intimacy.
O'Rourke put his elbows upon the table, and bowed his head in his hands, thinking deeply. Thus he remained for some monotonous minutes, considering the case of Monsieur le Prince. At length he stood up.
"He must leave on the yacht to-night, Chambret," he decided aloud.
There came no reply. Chambret was gone. O'Rourke looked about the tent stupidly. "What the diwle—!" he muttered. A flash of comprehension illuminated his intelligence. He cursed to himself softly, caught up his revolver and sword belt, and ran out. It was but a step to the tent of Monsieur le Prince. He had reached it in an instant, and was scratching on the canvas. Receiving no reply he drew aside the flap, and peered within, to discover it empty.
O'Rourke swore again irritably.
"Divvle take the hot-headed Frenchman!" he cried. "For why does he want to treat me so?"
He dashed up the line of tents to one which had been allotted to Mouchon and D'Ervy; he had a very distinct notion as to what Chambret was about, and it pleased him not at all. Arriving, he did not stand upon ceremony, but burst in upon a scene that at once confirmed his fears.
Three men were in the tent: Mouchon, Chambret, and Monsieur le Prince. The latter was standing, facing and addressing Chambret. Mouchon had backed against the wall of the tent; his eyes were wide with fright.
As the Irishman entered, Prince Felix said a word or two, low-toned and tense—worried them between his teeth, like an ill-dispositioned cur, and flung them at Chambret insultingly.
Chambret laughed softly. "Thank you, monsieur. That precisely is what I sought."
His hand moved more swiftly than thought; the slap rang like a pistol shot. One cheek of Monsieur le Prince suddenly paled, then flushed scarlet with the imprint of Chambret's fingers. He gasped, thrust his hand swiftly into his breast pocket, and sprang for Chambret's throat, flourishing a blade that glittered in the lamplight. But he brought up abruptly, and recovered his senses, with his nose to the muzzle of O'Rourke's revolver.
Monsieur le Prince's eyes ranged furiously from the Irishman to his own compatriot. He put up the knife with a swagger. "Ah," said he; "a conspiracy, I see, messieurs."
"Exactly," drawled O'Rourke. "Just as much so as yours with Soly."
Prince Felix stepped back, with a little cry of rage.
"The man lies!" he gasped.
"Of what is monsieur accused, that he should defend himself?" inquired O'Rourke politely.
Monsieur le Prince was caught. He darted a furious glance at O'Rourke, biting his lip.
"Well," he said doggedly, "what do you purpose doing about it?"
"This is my affair," interposed Chambret. "Monsieur has insulted me? Will you fight—dog?"
"A duel?" The eyes of Monsieur le Prince expressed unbounded amazement.
"Yes."
"Ah!" cried the prince. "You afford me that chance, eh?"
"No," Chambret coldly negatived.
"But, as the challenged party, I shall choose swords."
"Very well; I am agreeable."
O'Rourke turned to the terrified Mouchon.
"Ye there!" he cried sternly. "Go to the tent of your master, and fetch his case of rapiers."
The prince's eyes sought Mouchon's; they exchanged a glance of understanding, which O'Rourke was at no trouble to interpret.
"And," he added, as Mouchon prepared to leave the tent, "mind ye, monsieur, if ye breathe one word of this to any soul ere I give ye leave, I'll shoot ye on sight!"
Mouchon bowed, and sidled through the flap; no further communication passed between him and his master. Indeed, so potent was the Irishman's threat that the little Frenchman was back almost before they considered he had had time to accomplish the half of his journey.
Chambret looked at his watch. "Twelve-thirty," he announced calmly. "I have just enough leeway to attend to Monsieur le Prince."
"Monsieur Mouchon will no doubt be glad to act as his second," said the Irishman; "I, of course, act for ye, me friend. To avoid a possible mistake, however, about our place of meeting, it would be well for Monsieur Mouchon to accompany ye, Chambret; I will give Monsieur le Prince the pleasure of me own company. Now, go, gentlemen. We will follow at a discreet interval."
When they were alone, Monsieur le Prince threw himself into a chair with a grim laugh—indeed, it was more like a snarl. "It is already decided, this duel," he told O'Rourke familiarly; "your principal walks in a dead man's shoes. Now, had it been you, monsieur, I would be less easy in my mind. But Chambret! He knows naught of the sword."
"Do ye believe it?" queried O'Rourke incredulously. "And yet, d'ye know, I've a premonition that ye die to-night, monsieur."