lighted by the circular entrance. Blankets were hung over the walls;
furs were strewn on the floor. A hammock swung from staples fixed in
the rock. On either side were two long _banquettes_ of oak, and near
one of them a black cupboard, on the door of which hung a large ivory
crucifix. Rocco threw open one of the _banquettes_.
“Look! there are some dry clothes. Change into them. Wrap some of these
blankets about you, and lie down. I will make a fire and give you some
hot soup.”
Hugh did as he was told. He had almost dropped off to sleep when Rocco
brought him a big bowl of soup. It was rich and meaty. After he had
drunk it, he could no longer fight against his drowsiness and closing
his eyes, slept as he had never done before.
2.
He awakened gradually, and with a growing sense of tranquillity. The
cave was brightening in the light of another dawn. Outlined against the
sky and framed in the circle of the doorway he saw the superb figure of
Angelo Rocco. The bandit turned and greeted him.
“A moment ago,” he said, “I saw a shadow moving at the edge of the pine
wood. Ha! there it is again.”
He snatched up a rifle and fired.
“There! that will frighten him, whoever he is. If he means no harm,
let him come out into the open. Now I will give you some breakfast. My
friends keep me supplied with food from the city. I shoot game, but
once in a while it is good to eat civilized food.”
They had a breakfast of coffee, bacon and bread. Afterwards they
smoked, and Rocco talked. Hugh watched him in admiration. Never had he
seen such a perfect man. He was tall, strong and springy as a panther.
He had ebony black hair, and a clipped beard and moustache, which did
not conceal the strength and character of his face. His fine lips had a
haughty twist and his dark eyes were full of stormy fire. He moved with
grace, carrying himself like a king.
“You must stay here for some days,” he told Hugh. “Rest your nerves. I
am glad of a guest. With me you will be safe.”
He rose, looked keenly over the mountain side, then came slowly back.
“I see no more shadows. For a time at least we have driven off your
wolves. Who are they?”
Hugh gave an account of the fight at the inn. When he came to the death
of Pascal, Rocco’s face grew dark.
“They killed him, the devils! My good friend, Père Pascal. And who is
there then to avenge him? You know, here in Corsica, a life must pay
for a life. I had no wish to kill another man. There has been too much
killing. But my friend ... my old friend ... well, we will see.”
After that Rocco grew restless. He strode up and down the cave,
constantly stopping at the door to stare out. At last he said to Hugh:
“If you do not mind being alone, I will go down into the forest. If any
one should come, you must retreat by the passage to the left. In case
you want to sleep I will show you where you will be safe.”
A jut of rock nearly closed the passage, but further on it opened out
again. At the end of fifty yards it appeared to come to a stop. Rocco
held up the light he carried, and showed Hugh a cleft high up in the
rock. It was lined with furs and formed a kind of natural bunk.
“Here is where I sleep when the gendarmes are in the neighbourhood. You
will be safe here. If you should be further pursued, you have only to
roll over that boulder at the far end. Under it you will find a hole
down which you can lower yourself. It leads to a subterranean gallery
which has many branches and where no one can find you. Only be careful
not to get lost. And the boulder too,--I fear it may be heavy for you
to move. But I do not expect to be long absent. In the meantime I do
not think any one will trouble you.”
3.
As he descended the mountain, the bandit kept well under cover. Hugh
watched him till he disappeared into the forest. From the mouth of the
cave a magnificent panorama outspread. The mountains looked as if they
had been hacked out by an angry god. Their flanks were naked. Moving
cloud masses scarfed them for a moment, only to be rent aside again,
and reveal new vistas of desolation. The vast abyss of the valley was
packed with pines.
The time passed slowly and Rocco seemed to be long in returning. At
noon Hugh relit the fire and cooked himself some food. He found that
one of the _banquettes_ was stored with provisions, the other with
clothes. Rocco had things well arranged.
When he had finished eating, he let the little fire go out, and sat
gazing over the valley, dreaming away the hours.... Margot would
be married on the seventeenth, that day week. The thought made him
miserable. He felt he would give anything to prevent the marriage.
He tried to analyze his feelings. He wanted her and yet he did not
want her. He wanted her because another man wanted her; or rather,
while he didn’t want her himself, he did not want any one else to get
her,--a most dog-in-the-mangerish feeling. He told himself that it had
all worked out for the best. She would probably be happier with the
other man. He envied him. Margot was a jewel of a girl, sweet, gentle,
devoted. She would make a ripping little wife. He was sorry he did not
love her, at least not in the mad, passionate way that mattered. He
just couldn’t care for people in that crazy, headlong fashion. He was a
cool, unsentimental sort of a chap. Or was he, really?...
Heigh ho! the time was long. What was keeping Rocco? What a pity
about that man, condemned to pass the rest of his life in a prison
of infinite earth and sky. He looked around at the few primitive
comforts of the cave. There were some books, all on political economy
or sociology. Yes, a great pity! A man of force and ability sacrificed
because of a youthful excess of ardour. His friends said that Rocco had
fired in self-defence; but the friends of the dead man were in power.
All at once Hugh had an idea, a fantastic idea. Yes, that was what he
would do....
Heigh ho! again. The time was infernally long. It must be about three
in the afternoon. How still the mountain side was. Nothing moved.
Suppose he slept a little! Taking a blanket, he crawled along the dark
passage to the left, climbed up into the cleft and curled snugly in his
blanket. Heigh ho!...
4.
He was awakened from a sound sleep by hearing some one moving in the
outer part of the cave. The bandit must be wondering what had become of
him. He was about to jump down from his perch and greet Rocco when the
thought came to him:
“Perhaps it is not he after all. I must be cautious.”
He crawled along the narrow passage, and peered around the shoulder of
rock that blocked its entrance. Then he drew a deep, gasping breath,
for this is what he saw:
Seated on one of the oak _banquettes_ was Doctor Bergius. He was
leaning forward in an attitude of fatigue; his eyes--so wide open that
their yellow pupils looked like rings--glared at the rock behind which
Hugh was peering. Hugh thought himself discovered; fear paralyzed him.
From the darkness he stared back at the doctor. But it was evident the
doctor did not see him, did not see anything in fact. His stare was
that of abstraction; his mouth had the twist of a savage beast; his
face was set in an expression of rage and despair.
Then Hugh saw Castelli, at the mouth of the cave, looking anxiously
down the mountain side. He, too, looked weary and desperate. The third
of the party was Gamba. Gamba alone showed no sign of hardship. The
little man, compact of all that was fierce and tenacious, was hunting
round the cave like a nosing terrier. Hugh started to draw cautiously
back when suddenly he heard a hoarse shout from Doctor Bergius.
“Castelli.”
Castelli wheeled round sharply.
“Well, doctor?”
“Castelli, you and I have got to have a heart-to-heart talk. Here and
now is a good time. Castelli, you distrust me.”
The Italian started, made a gesture of protest. The doctor strode up to
him.
“Oh, I’ve noticed it for some time. The others, too. All of you
distrust me. If I thought there was anything in the nature of a
conspiracy between you, I’d blow you to hell this instant.”
The doctor was glowering down at the Italian. With a savage gesture he
drew a revolver.
Castelli looked at him coolly.
“Go ahead, doctor,” he said. “As a matter of fact I don’t distrust you,
but I can’t answer for the other two. You must admit that things aren’t
very clear. You played all the other men false. You left them stranded
on the Italian shore without a _sou_ of the money. You brought it here
for us to make a divide. Then you told us you had lost it; that it had
been stolen from you by that fool of an Englishman in a manner you must
admit to be fantastic. Can you blame them if they think you want to
bilk them, too? Now, personally, I believe you; but if we don’t find
this Englishman and recover the money, I give you fair warning there
is likely to be trouble. It’s no use threatening me, doctor. Remember
we are three against one, and none of us very squeamish about taking
life.”
“By God, it’s true, Castelli. I’ve been outwitted, and by a fool. Aye,
that’s what hurts. He must have spied on me at the hotel. I could
not take the bag about with me everywhere. He profited by an hour’s
absence, only an hour, to get possession of it. He’s got it, got it
all. He’s hidden it till he can come back safely and get it away.
That’s why we’ve got to find him, got to hunt him down. He mustn’t
leave the island. He’s here somewhere in these cursed wilds. He must
not escape us. We’ve got to get him, Castelli; and, when we do, I’ll
torture him till he tells; then kill him afterwards with my own hands.
Ha! that will be the happiest moment in my life,--when I kill the dog.”
“Well,” said Castelli, “we haven’t got him yet! There’s no use wasting
time; it’s evident he’s not here.”
“Leave no stone unturned. It was just a chance that he might have taken
refuge with this Rocco. Where is the fellow? He might at least be able
to give us some information.”
“Gone off hunting probably. Still he’s been here not so long ago. See,
the ashes of his fire are still hot.”
“We may as well go. We’ve no time to spare. Stay! as we are here, we
might as well search the place. There are three passages. I’ll take the
centre one; Gamba can search the one to the right, while you examine
the one to the left. Got an electric torch?”
“No, matches.”
“All right. Go ahead.”
Feeling his way along the wall, Hugh ran back into the darkness. There
was not a moment to lose; Castelli was almost in the passage. He must
escape. Ah! the boulder that concealed the secret exit! He reached it
and tried to move it. In vain! Again he tried with all his strength.
He was able to budge it only a few inches. Castelli was already at
the opening. No, he could not shift this cursed boulder; he would be
caught like a rat in a hole! Castelli was in the passage now, trying to
light a match. As Hugh flung himself flat against the rocky wall, his
uplifted hands came in contact with the ledge of the cleft where he had
been sleeping. Quick as thought he drew himself up and shrank back till
he was wedged into the rock itself.
Castelli was fumbling and stumbling. He was striking a fresh match
every minute and swearing audibly. Hugh saw a faint glow, then
darkness, then the glow again. Castelli did not like his job; but he
was taking no chances. Nearer and nearer he drew. Now he had come to
the end of the passage, just below Hugh’s hiding place.
“_Sapristi!_ My last match,” Castelli muttered. He struck it, holding
it high above his head, and examined the opposite wall. The light just
came to the ledge within a foot of Hugh’s face. Then Hugh did something
for which he was proud as long as he lived. Reaching forward, he softly
blew out the light.
He heard Castelli curse; but the Italian had his back to him and did
not realize where the draft had come from.
“There! that’s out,” he exclaimed. “But there’s nothing here. I’m off.”
Hugh breathed freely again as he heard Castelli groping his way out.
He could scarcely realize his luck. On such small things human destiny
often turns. Had Castelli possessed another match he would surely have
been discovered. He raised himself, confident of his safety, and
listened. He heard the distant voice of the doctor.
“No sign of any one. The passages Gamba and I examined dwindled away in
the rock.”
“Mine, too, came to an end,” said Castelli. “I felt the walls all
round. Not even a rat-hole.”
Then the voices ceased and Hugh heard the men scrambling out of the
cave.
5.
Darkness had fallen and still Rocco did not return. The cave-mouth was
a ring of velvety blue patterned with stars. The air was exquisitely
cold and pure. As Hugh cowered in the darkness he wrapped himself in
a blanket. The silence was breathless, acute. Staring up at the blue
circle of sky, he listened to the beating of his heart. Then suddenly,
noiselessly, a dark form loomed up between him and the stars. It was
Rocco.
The bandit walked like one very weary. He threw himself down and lit a
cigarette. After he had drunk the soup Hugh heated for him, he drew a
deep sigh.
“You have been long,” commented Hugh.
“Yes,” said Rocco; “I have done much, seen much, learned much.
Incidentally I have killed a man.”
Hugh gazed at Rocco in silence. After a deliberate pause the bandit
went on:
“Yes, I killed him, or was the means of his meeting his death. I will
tell you.”
Through the mouth of the cave came the pure air perfumed with pines.
Hugh wrapped his blanket around him and settled down to listen. In the
darkness he could see the glowing tip of a cigarette, and from behind
it hear the roll of a rich voice.
“When I left you,” said the voice, “I went to the inn. I found the
body of poor Pascal in the pool. There was a bullet wound in the head.
They must have struck him when they fired at you. However, that does
not matter. Pascal has an enemy. The crime will be put down to the
vendetta. A convenient institution, the vendetta; it covers a multitude
of sins.”
There was a reflective pause. The cigarette glowed and faded; then the
sonorous voice went on:
“I took my poor dead friend out of the water and carried him into the
kitchen of the inn. I laid him on the table, straightened his limbs,
folded his hands over his breast, and put a crucifix between them. Then
I knelt down and said a prayer for the welfare of his soul....”
The voice was silent for a little. The round mouth of the cave was
brightening, and the stars shrinking back affrighted. The voice grew
tense.
“It was while I was praying that the man entered. He saw neither myself
nor the body, for the place was in darkness. He went over to where your
clothes were and began to search them, the pockets, the lining. It was
while he was doing this that I put a pistol to his head.”
A deep laugh awoke the echoes of the cave. Into its circular mouth
crept the silver edge of the moon.
“I never saw a man so scared. You should have seen him jump. I backed
him against the wall with his hands high in the air. I pointed to the
dead man. ‘You killed him,’ said I. He shook his head. ‘Then,’ I said,
‘you helped to kill him. Tell me, and I’ll give you a chance for life.
Otherwise I’ll shoot you where you stand.’ Then he told me that he had
seized and held Pascal while his comrade had strangled him. ‘So,’ I
said, ‘that was the way of it. Well, you are equally guilty, but you
shall have a chance for your life. Have you a knife?’”
Rocco’s cigarette went out. He took his time to light another. The
velvet circle cut the moon in half. Hugh could see the face of Rocco
now, a pale, grim, tragic face. The bandit went on:
“‘Yes, I have a knife,’ answered the man. ‘And can you use it?’ I
asked. ‘None better,’ said he. I marched him out of the place to the
clearing in front of the inn. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘look ... I throw away my
rifle, my pistol. Knife to knife we will fight it out. You for your
life; I to avenge my friend. Is it well?’ And he answered me; ‘It is
well.’”
Rocco rose and stood before Hugh. The full round of the moon was framed
in the circle of the cave-mouth. It lit up the magnificent figure of
the bandit, as he went on:
“The man was a brute, but he was brave. His eyes gleamed. I could
see in them the joy of the fight. He thought he had me. He drew a
long bladed knife. I drew mine. There in the forest we circled round,
watching each other like two cats. Suddenly he leaped. He was holding
his knife like a sword, point up to strike at the belly. I caught his
wrist as he stabbed. Then I dropped my own weapon. I reached round
him and forced his knife hand behind his back. He was strong; I never
wrestled with a stronger. We had a tough struggle; and they say there
is not in all Corsica my match for strength. Slowly, surely, I twisted
his knife hand behind him; then suddenly I tripped him up. He fell,
fell on the point of his own knife. It went right through his back and
stuck. He died quickly. You would not say I killed him, would you?”
“No; without going into details, one might say he stabbed himself.”
“That’s it. Damn details. I do not want to have another death at my
door. Well, that’s one of your enemies settled. And the other three....
Oh, I know they came here. I was afraid they had got you; they are
hunting for you high and low. They have horses and spies. The stations
are all guarded; the country people warned. A dazzling price is set on
your head. So much I have heard from some wood-cutter friends of mine.
Alas! my young friend, I fear Corsica is too hot for you. The sooner
you are out of our brave little island the better.”
“What must I do?”
“There’s a boat sails for Marseilles to-morrow. You must catch it.”
“But how?”
“I will conduct you by a secret trail through the woods to the railway,
at a point only fifteen miles from Agaccio. After that you must take
your chance. See, I have brought your clothes from the inn. Now we will
both sleep, for we must be up at dawn; you have a long, hard day before
you. Believe me, I do not exaggerate the danger you are in. But I will
do my best for you, and I hope you will get through. Now sleep....”
Hugh stretched himself out in his blanket; as he closed his eyes,
the moon sailed out of the pool of sky and the cave was plunged in
darkness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE LAST LAP
1.
A little after daylight they left the cave and descended the mountain.
With Rocco leading they plunged into the first fringe of forest and by
a a little toe-trail travelled swiftly, keeping high above the valley.
Hugh saw nothing but the sombre pine trunks. They encountered no one
and the silence was profound. Rocco spoke little. Once or twice he
stopped to listen, then, seemingly satisfied, went on at the same rapid
pace. At noon they made a short halt for lunch.
They were gradually descending. The sharpness of the mountain air had
given way to a softer temperature, the pines had yielded to oaks. At
first the oaks had been bare branched, then they were clothed with
leafage. Underfoot, too, the grey had given way to brown, the brown in
turn yielded to green. They were dropping through the temperate zone to
the warmer one of the coast.
It was early afternoon when Rocco stopped and turned to Hugh.
“This is as far as I dare go,” said he. “I think you can manage alone.
You must descend that path to the railway. You will then be about
fifteen miles above Agaccio. The road almost parallels the railway. You
will have to wait to travel it until the dusk, and should get to the
town about nine o’clock. The boat leaves at ten. If nothing happens
you should catch it. Have you any money?”
Hugh had not thought of that. He searched his pockets.
“No, they got all.”
“Take this. I have no use for money as you can see.”
He handed Hugh a note for five hundred francs.
“Oh, I can’t accept that.”
“Come now. Consider it a loan. You will repay me some day.”
“All right. But let’s sit down and have a smoke before we separate.”
They flung themselves under a tree and lit their cigarettes.
“Look here,” said Hugh suddenly, “what would you do if you had a lot of
money, say three million francs.”
Rocco showed his white teeth in a derisive smile.
“What would I do with three million francs? Why, first of all I would
buy my pardon; then I would go into politics again. I would devote my
life to the welfare of Corsica. With all that money one could almost
change the destiny of our people. Ah! what a dream....”
“I can tell you where you will find three million francs. You can take
or leave them as you choose. Only let it be a secret between us.”
“That is understood,” said Rocco gravely.
Hugh described where he had hidden the money, and sketched the events
which had led up to its coming into his possession. When he had
finished, Rocco sat in silence; his eyes brooded sombrely, his brows
below his lofty forehead knitted in thought. Hugh watched his face,
that fine Roman face so full of virility and courage. Beyond a doubt he
was stirred by ambitious dreams. Hugh was reminded of Napoleon. Might
this, too, not be a man of destiny? Suddenly Rocco roused himself.
“I do not know. It needs reflection. It is too stupendous. I may take
the money and use it for my country; but if I do not, you will be sure
it will remain there untouched, perhaps forever.... But now you must be
on your way. You have far to go; see, already the sun is declining. You
must reach the Agaccio road before dusk, and then hurry, hurry to the
boat. And now good-bye. Good luck to you.”
“Good-bye. I’ll never forget you.”
The two men shook hands with a long grip. As Hugh turned on the
downward trail, he looked back at the tall, graceful figure of Rocco,
standing erect with folded arms. He waved his hand and Rocco took off
his broad-brimmed hat. Then a turn of the trail parted them forever.
2.
It seemed to Hugh that he must have taken a wrong turning, for
the trail, which had been growing less and less defined, suddenly
disappeared. He was lost in the forest. Night was approaching. However,
by keeping on down the hill, he must eventually come to either the
road or the railway. He struck into a brisker pace, and, as there was
no underbrush, made rapid progress. He had been descending for perhaps
half an hour, when he heard a welcome sound, the whistle of a train. A
little further on the forest lifted, and the line of railway lay below
him.
Less than a kilometre away, was the station; a freight train laden with
logs was drawing ponderously out. He decided to let it pass, before
continuing down the track. He waited impatiently. It had occurred to
him that perhaps he was exposing himself too much; and he was drawing
back when he heard a shout, ... a shout of fury and of triumph.
With a heart leap of fear he recognized the three men who were hunting
him. What ghastly misfortune! They were on horseback too. Castelli, who
had been searching the hillside with a pair of powerful glasses, had
been the one to discover him. He handed the glasses to Doctor Bergius
and pointed to Hugh. At the same instant Gamba leaped from his horse,
crossed the railway track and launched in pursuit.
For a dazed moment Hugh cursed his folly in thus exposing himself, then
turned and crashed back into the brush. It was very thick and he made
progress with difficulty. At this rate he would surely be caught. Then
to his joy, he came upon a little trail that descended and skirted the
railway. He raced along it.
Once with panting lungs he stopped to listen. Was he being followed?
He heard a cracking of underbrush; Gamba had taken a short cut and was
appallingly near. Hugh tore on again. The trail broke from the forest
and skirted a bluff that overhung the railway, running along it for
about three hundred yards. As Hugh came out on this exposed stretch his
heart sank. Here at last he was surely trapped. To his right was the
steep cut to the railway, to the left the dense brush of the forest.
The only way of escape was straight ahead. If only he could make the
end of the pathway before Gamba reached him.... Well, he must do his
best.
He had gone but a short distance when Gamba crashed into the open. The
little man was as fleet as a deer, as sure-footed as a goat. Hugh knew
he had no chance; but with the strength of despair he pounded on.
There was a roaring in his ears. The train! It was puffing and clanking
below him. Gamba was gaining on him fast. As he dashed on, Hugh noticed
that the bluff dipped, so that in one place it was only about ten feet
above the track. If he could make this gap, leap the track and reach
the gully that lay on the other side, there was a chance he might yet
escape. He made a desperate spurt to gain it.