CHAPTER VI

THE SECRET PASSAGE

The fire had already smouldered down, and my companion blew out the

lamp, so that we had not taken ten paces before we had lost sight of the

ill-omened cottage, in which I had received so singular a welcome upon

my home-coming. The wind had softened down, but a fine rain, cold and

clammy, came drifting up from the sea. Had I been left to myself I

should have found myself as much at a loss as I had been when I first

landed; but my companion walked with a brisk and assured step, so that

it was evident that he guided himself by landmarks which were invisible

to me. For my part, wet and miserable, with my forlorn bundle under my

arm, and my nerves all jangled by my terrible experiences, I trudged in

silence by his side, turning over in my mind all that had occurred to

me. Young as I was, I had heard much political discussion amongst my

elders in England, and the state of affairs in France was perfectly

familiar to me. I was aware that the recent elevation of Buonaparte to

the throne had enraged the small but formidable section of Jacobins and

extreme Republicans, who saw that all their efforts to abolish a kingdom

had only ended in transforming it into an empire. It was, indeed, a

pitiable result of their frenzied strivings that a crown with eight

_fleurs-de-lis_ should be changed into a higher crown surmounted by a

cross and ball. On the other hand, the followers of the Bourbons, in

whose company I had spent my youth, were equally disappointed at the

manner in which the mass of the French people hailed this final step in

the return from chaos to order. Contradictory as were their motives,

the more violent spirits of both parties were united in their hatred to

Napoleon, and in their fierce determination to get rid of him by any

means. Hence a series of conspiracies, most of them with their base in

England; and hence also a large use of spies and informers upon the part

of Fouche and of Savary, upon whom the responsibility of the safety of

the Emperor lay. A strange chance had landed me upon the French coast

at the very same time as a murderous conspirator, and had afterwards

enabled me to see the weapons with which the police contrived to thwart

and outwit him and his associates. When I looked back upon my series of

adventures, my wanderings in the salt-marsh, my entrance into the

cottage, my discovery of the papers, my capture by the conspirators, the

long period of suspense with Toussac's dreadful thumb upon my chin, and

finally the moving scenes which I had witnessed--the killing of the

hound, the capture of Lesage, and the arrival of the soldiers--I could

not wonder that my nerves were overwrought, and that I surprised myself

in little convulsive gestures, like those of a frightened child.

The chief thought which now filled my mind was what my relations were

with this dangerous man who walked by my side. His conduct and bearing

had filled me with abhorrence. I had seen the depth of cunning with

which he had duped and betrayed his companions, and I had read in his

lean smiling face the cold deliberate cruelty of his nature, as he

stood, pistol in hand, over the whimpering coward whom he had outwitted.

Yet I could not deny that when, through my own foolish curiosity, I had

placed myself in a most hopeless position, it was he who had braved the

wrath of the formidable Toussac in order to extricate me. It was

evident also that he might have made his achievement more striking by

delivering up two prisoners instead of one to the troopers. It is true

that I was not a conspirator, but I might have found it difficult to

prove it. So inconsistent did such conduct seem in this little yellow

flint-stone of a man that, after walking a mile or two in silence, I

asked him suddenly what the meaning of it might be.

I heard a dry chuckle in the darkness, as if he were amused by the

abruptness and directness of my question.

'You are a most amusing person, Monsieur--Monsieur--let me see, what did

you say your name was?'

'De Laval.'

'Ah, quite so, Monsieur de Laval. You have the impetuosity and the

ingenuousness of youth. You want to know what is up a chimney, you jump

up the chimney. You want to know the reason of a thing, and you blurt

out a question. I have been in the habit of living among people who

keep their thoughts to themselves, and I find you very refreshing.'

'Whatever the motives of your conduct, there is no doubt that you saved

my life,' said I. 'I am much obliged to you for your intercession.'

It is the most difficult thing in the world to express gratitude to a

person who fills you with abhorrence, and I fear that my halting speech

was another instance of that ingenuousness of which he accused me.

'I can do without your thanks,' said he coldly. 'You are perfectly

right when you think that if it had suited my purpose I should have let

you perish, and I am perfectly right when I think that if it were not

that you are under an obligation you would fail to see my hand if I

stretched it out to you just as that overgrown puppy Lasalle did. It is

very honourable, he thinks, to serve the Emperor upon the field of

battle, and to risk life in his behalf, but when it comes to living

amidst danger as I have done, consorting with desperate men, and knowing

well that the least slip would mean death, why then one is beneath the

notice of a fine clean-handed gentleman. Why,' he continued in a burst

of bitter passion, 'I have dared more, and endured more, with Toussac

and a few of his kidney for comrades, than this Lasalle has done in all

the childish cavalry charges that ever he undertook. As to service, all

his Marshals put together have not rendered the Emperor as pressing a

service as I have done. But I daresay it does not strike you in that

light, Monsieur--Monsieur--'

'De Laval.'

'Quite so--it is curious how that name escapes me. I daresay you take

the same view as Colonel Lasalle?'

'It is not a question upon which I can offer an opinion,' said I.

'I only know that I owe my life to your intercession.'

I do not know what reply he might have made to this evasion, but at that

moment we heard a couple of pistol shots and a distant shouting from far

away in the darkness. We stopped for a few minutes, but all was silent

once more.

'They must have caught sight of Toussac,' said my companion. 'I am

afraid that he is too strong and too cunning to be taken by them. I do

not know what impression he left upon you, but I can tell you that you

will go far to meet a more dangerous man.'

I answered that I would go far to avoid meeting one, unless I had the

means of defending myself, and my companion's dry chuckle showed that he

appreciated my feelings.

'Yet he is an absolutely honest man, which is no very common thing in

these days,' said he. 'He is one of those who, at the outbreak of the

Revolution, embraced it with the whole strength of his simple nature.

He believed what the writers and the speakers told him, and he was

convinced that, after a little disturbance and a few necessary

executions, France was to become a heaven upon earth, the centre of

peace and comfort and brotherly love. A good many people got those fine

ideas into their heads, but the heads have mostly dropped into the

sawdust-basket by this time. Toussac was true to them, and when instead

of peace he found war, instead of comfort a grinding poverty, and

instead of equality an Empire, it drove him mad. He became the fierce

creature you see, with the one idea of devoting his huge body and

giant's strength to the destruction of those who had interfered with his

ideal. He is fearless, persevering, and implacable. I have no doubt at

all that he will kill me for the part that I have played to-night.'

It was in the calmest voice that my companion uttered the remark, and it

made me understand that it was no boast when he said there was more

courage needed to carry on his unsavoury trade than to play the part of

a _beau sabreur_ like Lasalle. He paused a little, and then went on as

if speaking to himself.

'Yes,' said he, 'I missed my chance. I certainly ought to have shot

him when he was struggling with the hound. But if I had only wounded

him he would have torn me into bits like an over-boiled pullet, so

perhaps it is as well as it is.'

We had left the salt-marsh behind us, and for some time I had felt the

soft springy turf of the downland beneath my feet, and our path had

risen and dipped over the curves of the low coast hills. In spite of

the darkness my companion walked with great assurance, never hesitating

for an instant, and keeping up a stiff pace which was welcome to me in

my sodden and benumbed condition. I had been so young when I left my

native place that it is doubtful whether, even in daylight, I should

have recognised the countryside, but now in the darkness, half stupefied

by my adventures, I could not form the least idea as to where we were or

what we were making for. A certain recklessness had taken possession of

me, and I cared little where I went as long as I could gain the rest and

shelter of which I stood in need.

I do not know how long we had walked; I only know that I had dozed and

woke and dozed again whilst still automatically keeping pace with my

comrade, when I was at last aroused by his coming to a dead stop.

The rain had ceased, and although the moon was still obscured, the

heavens had cleared somewhat, and I could see for a little distance in

every direction. A huge white basin gaped in front of us, and I made

out that it was a deserted chalk quarry, with brambles and ferns growing

thickly all round the edges. My companion, after a stealthy glance

round to make sure that no one was observing us, picked his way amongst

the scattered clumps of bushes until he reached the wall of chalk. This

he skirted for some distance, squeezing between the cliff and the

brambles until he came at last to a spot where all further progress

appeared to be impossible.

'Can you see a light behind us?' asked my companion.

I turned round and looked carefully in every direction, but was unable

to see one.

'Never mind,' said he. 'You go first, and I will follow.'

In some way during the instant that my back had been turned he had swung

aside or plucked out the tangle of bush which had barred our way. When

I turned there was a square dark opening in the white glimmering wall in

front of us.

'It is small at the entrance, but it grows larger further in,' said he.

I hesitated for an instant. Whither was it that this strange man was

leading me? Did he live in a cave like a wild beast, or was this some

trap into which he was luring me? The moon shone out at the instant,

and in its silver light this black, silent porthole looked inexpressibly

cheerless and menacing.

'You have gone rather far to turn back, my good friend,' said my

companion. 'You must either trust me altogether or not trust me at

all.'

'I am at your disposal.'

'Pass in then, and I shall follow.'

I crept into the narrow passage, which was so low that I had to crawl

down it upon my hands and knees. Craning my neck round, I could see the

black angular silhouette of my companion as he came after me. He paused

at the entrance, and then, with a rustling of branches and snapping of

twigs, the faint light was suddenly shut off from outside, and we were

left in pitchy darkness. I heard the scraping of his knees as he

crawled up behind me.

'Go on until you come to a step down,' said he. 'We shall have more

room there, and we can strike a light.'

The ceiling was so low that by arching my back I could easily strike it,

and my elbows touched the wall upon either side. In those days I was

slim and lithe, however, so that I found no difficulty in making my way

onwards until, at the end of a hundred paces, or it may have been a

hundred and fifty, I felt with my hands that there was a dip in front of

me. Down this I clambered, and was instantly conscious from the purer

air that I was in some larger cavity. I heard the snapping of my

companion's flint, and the red glow of the tinder paper leaped suddenly

into the clear yellow flame of the taper. At first I could only see

that stern, emaciated face, like some grotesque carving in walnut wood,

with the ceaseless fishlike vibration of the muscles of his jaw. The

light beat full upon it, and it stood strangely out with a dim halo

round it in the darkness. Then he raised the taper and swept it slowly

round at arm's length so as to illuminate the place in which we stood.

I found that we were in a subterranean tunnel, which appeared to extend

into the bowels of the earth. It was so high that I could stand erect

with ease, and the old lichen-blotched stones which lined the walls told

of its great age. At the spot where we stood the ceiling had fallen in

and the original passage been blocked, but a cutting had been made from

this point through the chalk to form the narrow burrow along which we

had come. This cutting appeared to be quite recent, for a mound of

_debris_ and some trenching tools were still lying in the passage.

My companion, taper in hand, started off down the tunnel, and I followed

at his heels, stepping over the great stones which had fallen from the

roof or the walls, and now obstructed the path.

'Well,' said he, grinning at me over his shoulder, 'have you ever seen

anything like this in England?'

'Never,' I answered.

'These are the precautions and devices which men adopted in rough days

long ago. Now that rough days have come again, they are very useful to

those who know of such places.'

'Whither does it lead, then?' I asked.

'To this,' said he, stopping before an old wooden door, powerfully

clamped with iron. He fumbled with the metal-work, keeping himself

between me and it, so that I could not see what he was doing. There was

a sharp snick, and the door revolved slowly upon its hinges. Within

there was a steep flight of time-worn steps leading upwards. He

motioned me on, and closed the door behind us. At the head of the stair

there was a second wooden gate, which he opened in a similar manner.

I had been dazed before ever I came into the chalk pit, but now, at this

succession of incidents, I began to rub my eyes and ask myself whether

this was young Louis de Laval, late of Ashford, in Kent, or whether it

was some dream of the adventures of a hero of Pigault Lebrun. These

massive moss-grown arches and mighty iron-clamped doors were, indeed,

like the dim shadowy background of a vision; but the guttering taper, my

sodden bundle, and all the sordid details of my disarranged toilet

assured me only too clearly of their reality. Above all, the swift,

brisk, business-like manner of my companion, and his occasional abrupt

remarks, brought my fancies back to the ground once more. He held the

door open for me now, and closed it again when I had passed through.

We found ourselves in a long vaulted corridor, with a stone-flagged

floor, and a dim oil lamp burning at the further end. Two iron-barred

windows showed that we had come above the earth's surface once more.

Down this corridor we passed, and then through several passages and up a

short winding stair. At the head of it was an open door, which led into

a small but comfortable bedroom.

'I presume that this will satisfy your wants for to-night,' said he.

I asked for nothing better than to throw myself down, damp clothes and

all, upon that snowy coverlet; but for the instant my curiosity overcame

my fatigue.

'I am much indebted to you, sir,' said I. 'Perhaps you will add to your

favours by letting me know where I am.'

'You are in my house, and that must suffice you for to-night. In the

morning we shall go further into the matter.' He rang a small bell, and

a gaunt shock-headed country man-servant came running at the call.

'Your mistress has retired, I suppose?'

'Yes, sir, a good two hours ago.'

'Very good. I shall call you myself in the morning.' He closed my

door, and the echo of his steps seemed hardly to have died from my ears

before I had sunk into that deep and dreamless sleep which only youth

and fatigue can give.

Uncle Bernac: A Memory of the Empire · 第 6 / 17 章