UNDER WHICH KING, BEZONIAN?
The station-master was right. I saw how things were tending and how the
revolt was sure to end. Yet I was by nature so curious of the oddities
of the business that I put off speaking to Keller Bey. For one thing, I
did not want to find myself shut up in the Duke's Castle along with the
other martyrs of the new rule. I preferred the open air and risk.
Besides, I could each day assure myself of the well-being of Dennis
Deventer and his family.
I discovered where Jack Jaikes was usually to be found on guard, and,
early in the dusk of the morning, I slipped from my room in order to
speak half an hour with him in private. He first abused me like a
pickpocket for taking sides with such a dirty pack, and it was with the
utmost difficulty that he could be persuaded that there was after all a
difference between a Communard and a prisoner on parole. He did not
trouble to conceal his opinion of the latter.
"Jump over the wall," he whispered, "see, catch hold of my belt. I tell
ye, man, in business we cannot afford to be so fine. I learned that in
Glasgow long syne, when a brither-in-law o' mine took my job from me.
Now, he was my brither, though not by blood, and in a manner o' speaking
I had promised to love, honour, and obey. But instead I just bashed him
till he was laid up in bed for six weeks--so I got my job back! Now tell
me, where would I have been if I had minded about honour and 'paroles'
and them things?"
It was in vain that I pointed out to Jack Jaikes that, after all, it was
not he but his sister who had promised to love, honour, and obey the
maltreated job-jumper.
"It doesna maitter. It's all the wan thing!" was all that I could get
out of Jack Jaikes. "Now then, catch a haud and I'll hae ye beside me in
the crack o' a cow's tail!"
Now, though I had fought duels on the sly at St. Andre on the most
approved principles of French honour, I had done so chiefly because I
possessed an excellent method and a supple wrist trained by years of the
"Salle." Really I cared nothing about any artificial code of honour. But
it was quite a different thing to have passed my word to Keller Bey, and
entirely unthinkable to leave him in the lurch by making my escape
without telling him.
I began about this time to imagine a vain thing. It seemed that in some
way I could save both Keller Bey and the Deventers. I would be on both
sides of the fence at once, and play a universal providence. I did not
then see that I should end by being outlawed by both sides--as, save for
a curious interposition, I should have been.
Jack Jaikes had, however, sufficiently impressed me that I went to
Keller Bey and told him that he must trust me completely without any
parole. He must give me back my word about escaping. I might (I
explained) disappear for a time without leaving him altogether. In
reality I did not mean to do anything of the kind, and if it came to any
trouble about saving the Deventers, he would find me again at his side.
All this I believed perfectly feasible at the time. Indeed, I spoke with
such earnestness and spontaneity that he finished by shutting his eyes,
even as I was doing, to the difficulties or, rather, impossibilities of
the position.
Somehow he clung to my presence among these men to whom he was already
no more than a symbol of authority. They did not know the man Keller
Bey. I did. And he seemed to wish to keep me near him as a link with a
past with which he had broken. In his heart I am sure he regretted the
garden and his talks with my father and Professor Renard, while as to
Linn and Alida, they did not simply bear thinking about.
Yet he was possessed by that driving fate, ambition, call of duty, what
you will---which sends men forth from comfortable homes to battle for
life about the frozen pole, to die miserably, to leave their bones
there--though all the while in bright homes the loving hearts of women
and the laughter of children are waiting for them.
Keller Bey was fate-driven. This Aramon rising had fallen accidentally
in his way. The idealist in the man tempted him to believe that he could
make a Socialist Land of Promise out of those factories and arsenals,
which had grown up in such a beauty spot of nature, where (it was Keller
Bey's word) "merely to be alive between sea, sky, and earth was a daily
revelation of religion."
He thought nothing of the small questions of pay and personal interest
which really made up the gist of the matter to the workmen. Perhaps
also, though quite unwillingly, he had been led astray by Dennis
Deventer. Dennis was an idealist also, and he saw the workmen's side of
the question of private ownership. He would express these opinions with
such dialectic sympathy that it almost seemed to the listener that he
would be found one day persuading the owners of the factories to make
over their possessions to the workers.
His wife often reproached him with this treachery of words.
"I know, I know, colleen," he would answer contritely, "'tis Irish
Dennis hot in my brain that will get talking--then when I _do_ things
Deventer the Scot sets the count right."
"But, then, how about the people with whom you have talked, and who may
be depending on your words?"
"'Tis more the pity of them," he would say quizzically, "but, anyway, I
am no worse than these young chicks that you have brought up."
"That is nonsense, Dennis--you are the master and yet you talk like a
'red' as often as not--very likely when you have just sent Jack Jaikes
to fix a new gun where it will command a street or a gate by which you
may be attacked."
Then Dennis would hold up his hand in token of surrender. It was all
gospel truth, due perhaps as much as anything to the family habit of
free discussion, when Dennis would take up a losing cause and champion
it to the bitter end.
There is, however, room to commiserate Keller Bey, from whom these
things were hidden. He reported to the Commune of Aramon at its daily
seances, of the favourable dispositions of the representative of the
Company. Nay, during the space of a week, it was quite on the cards that
the men should return to work on the basis of some half-understood (and
wholly misunderstood) word of Dennis's, which Keller Bey and his Social
Commission had taken to mean the admission of the men's right to a share
in the half-yearly profits.
Fortunately or unfortunately, another phrase at a succeeding interview
had revealed that Dennis Deventer had no intention of committing his
owners to anything. Nor had he the power. He had merely been willing to
cast his own salary and commissions into the common fund gained by all
the workers, and leave the total to be divided by the committee
according to their idea of equity.
But then, though this was exceedingly generous, Dennis was also a
partner and a rich man. The men, except Keller Bey, were indignant at
what they counted a cheat--a false offer. Very unjustly, for to Dennis
Deventer the rights of labour extended to what a man earned. Those of
property, equally important to him, included the defence of his wife's
money invested in the Small Arms Company, and also what he had been able
to put aside during the years of his strenuous life.
This is how the great misunderstanding arose, and I do not see that any
of the parties to it were free from blame--certainly not Dennis.
But I hasten to tell how the events fell out and what was my part in the
adventure.
The same day that I had required my parole back from Keller Bey I
marched boldly and in the face of all to the gate of Chateau Schneider,
which was shut and boarded up, strengthened besides by criss-cross work
of iron bars, so that the half which was opened creaked and groaned on
its hinges when it turned. So careful was the watch that when at last
after parley and explanation Jack Jaikes let me in, it was only to find
myself commanded by three separate batteries of machine guns from behind
which peered the perplexed faces of McAllister's gang. They were simple
men and they could not understand this running with the hare and hunting
with the hounds. I do not blame them. No one who did not know Keller Bey
and the need of standing by him could possibly have understood. Jack
Jaikes explained as well as he could, but not being convinced himself of
the goodness of my cause, I fear his words only darkened counsel.
It was generally understood by those on guard at Chateau Schneider that
"I would bear watching," and indeed it was not long before the sentinels
of the National Guard on the other side of the wall came to exactly the
same conclusion, so to please all parties I was blindfolded.
But the welcome I had from the household of Deventer made up for all
this enveloping suspicion. Here, at least, I stood clear. I was
re-established in my own conceit, in my position a most valuable asset.
Was I not a martyr to duty, a prisoner on parole, one castaway among
wild and dangerous people, because I had ventured out by night to join
the Deventer defence?
Jack Jaikes had evidently done his part well. He had given me the rough
side of his tongue, but had permitted the Deventers to understand that
in the morning hours he had held converse with a hero and martyr to
duty.
Mrs. Deventer came over and graciously kissed me, and I verily believe
that I might have kissed all three girls--yes, even Hannah--under the
eye maternal, without a reprimand.
Hugh was more comrade-like than he had been for a long time, and linked
arms with me in the good old St. Andre way as we stood by the
fire-place. Dennis Deventer came in smiling.
"Now our family is more like itself again. Angus me boy, and how did ye
leave my good friend the commander of the forces?"
I told him that Keller Bey was well but much worried by the cares of
office. At this he laughed a little mischievously, and burst out in one
of his usual phrases:
"St. Patrick's Day and a fine morning to be whittling shillalahs. But
Keller Bey has not seen the first green of his wild oat-sowing. Let him
wait till his lambs begin to frolic. Then I do not envy him his task. As
for me, Jack Jaikes and I are making this place so strong that they
might blow it piece by piece about our ears without making us
surrender."
Presently I found myself at luncheon at the Deventers' table. Nothing
appeared to have changed, except that the young apprentices were no
longer to be seen, and indeed there was no external service of any kind.
We cut and poured out at the sideboard for ourselves. Mrs. Deventer was
the only one waited upon, Rhoda Polly bringing her what she wanted.
The discussion grew as loud as ever, but hushed instantly when a
messenger appeared at the door, cap in hand and a little breathless, to
report the situation of the various posts, or to request instructions.
Sometimes Dennis merely bade the messenger to "Ask Jack Jaikes!" More
often he reeled off a detailed and technical explanation which the
apprentice understood though I did not. Or again he would dash a few
lines on the leaf of a note-book, indicate a design sketchily, and send
the lad off again as fast as he could clatter down the stairs.
I could not help being struck with admiration of the Chief's method and
science. Keller Bey was a leader of men, but I could not help seeing,
apart from his indubitable personal magnetism, how things were bungled
for lack of those very qualities of science and method. It went well in
Chateau Schneider. No need for speech or lifted hand. Silence fell like
a spell whenever the runner appeared in that ever-open doorway. And
while the master of men launched his commands there was not even the
ordinary clatter of knives and forks. Everyone seemed to feel the
importance of the decision to be given. All were proud of the giver,
though the moment before and the moment after they would be refuting his
arguments, denying his statements, and generally assaulting his
positions in a Donnybrook of sound and fury, without the least apparent
reverence for the grey hairs to which he often appealed with mock
pathos.
I took care not to see any of the defences of the workshops, or those
about the Chateau. These had been wholly reorganised since the attempts
of January, and were now nearing completion on a far more serious scale.
I had to go back and I should assuredly be questioned. If I did not
answer I might doubtless be suspected. Therefore it was arranged that
when the time came for me to go Jack Jaikes should blindfold me and lead
me out by the main fortified entrance of the works, which was
immediately in front of a large post of National Guards.
I was longing to get Rhoda Polly by herself and hear the news from her
own lips, but Dennis was so eager for more and more detailed gossip
about this one and that other among the members of the Commune, that he
detained me a long while. He did not fish for secrets nor ask me to
divulge any of Keller's plans. I think he felt himself too strong and
sure for that.
He was, moreover, genuinely interested in the men, and wishful to know
how they conducted themselves in their new spheres. He was specially
amused at my account of the staffing of the Post-Office-Without-Letters,
and when he heard the names he instantly baptized it "The Bureau of the
Incompetents"--a sobriquet which afterwards got abroad and became a
saying, so that many of those who had earned the name left the place to
escape from it.
At last Rhoda Polly and I did manage to take refuge up on the roof
behind our favourite chimney-stack at a place where the parapet was
almost breast high. It was comfortable hiding and quite secluded--the
fortifications of the Chateau roof being long perfected, and indeed only
to be used as a watch-tower or as a last line of defence.
Rhoda Polly told me how she had sent three messengers to Alida, of whom
only one had been faithful to his trust. She had had to enlist Jack
Jaikes in the business, and between them they had called up lads from
the town, butchers' boys and such-like, known to the foreman from the
Clyde. To each of these she had perforce to commit her letter, taking
care that it should contain nothing compromising in case of capture. But
only one ever returned with an answer, and he a little bare-footed
rascal of a boot-black, from whom nothing had been expected. He had even
brought back a letter from Alida, telling her friend that they were well
but that for safety's sake Linn and she, with the two Tessier maids, had
been taken into the main building of Gobelet, where at least they should
be farther from the road and have men to protect them.
Alida went on to say that Linn went about as usual, but evidently
grieved for her husband in silence. She herself was occupied in learning
Latin from Mr. Cawdor, and already could read in a book called "Caesar"
and in another by an author named Sallust.
I saw the letter as Rhoda Polly turned it over, and noted that not a
word of inquiry was wasted upon myself. My name was not once mentioned.
The Lady Alida had taken dire offence at my flight, and this was in
spite of the fact that Rhoda Polly had mentioned that I was with Keller
Bey in the city of Aramon.