_On one end was painted the Geneva cross._ Dr. Delmont and Professor
Tavernier had disappeared carrying red-cross funds. Was that their
box?
"I said it costs forty sous--two silver francs," repeated the Lizard,
doggedly.
"Forty sous? That's robbery!" sniffed the young ruffian, now using
that half-whining, half-sneering form of discourse peculiar alike to
the vicious chevalier of Paris and his confrère of the provincial
centres. Accent and slang alone distinguish between them; the argot,
however, is practically the same.
Tric-Trac fished a few coins from his pocket, counted carefully, and
handed them, one by one, to the poacher.
The poacher coolly tossed the food on the ground, and, as Tric-Trac
rose to pick it up, seized the box.
"Drop that!" said Tric-Trac, quickly.
"What's in it?"
"Nothing! Drop it, I tell you."
"Where's the key?"
"There's no key--it's a machine."
"What's in it?"
"Now I've been trying to find out for two weeks," sneered Tric-Trac,
"and I don't know yet. Drop it!"
"I'm going to open it all the same," said the Lizard, coolly, lifting
the lid.
A sudden silence followed; then the Lizard swore vigorously. There was
another box within the light, iron-edged casket, a keyless cube of
shining steel, with a knob on the top, and a needle which revolved
around a dial on which were engraved the hours and minutes. And
emblazoned above the dial was the coat of arms of the Countess de
Vassart.
When Tric-Trac had satisfied himself concerning the situation, he
returned to devour his food.
"Flute! Zut! Mince!" he observed; "you and your bad manners, they
sicken me--tiens!"
The Lizard, flat on his stomach, lay with the massive steel box under
his chin, patiently turning the needle from figure to figure.
"Wonderful! wonderful!" sneered Tric-Trac. "Continue, my friend, to
put out your eyes with your fingers!"
The Lizard continued to turn the needle backward and forward around
the face of the dial. Once, when he twirled it impatiently, a tiny
chime rang out from within the box, but the steel lid did not open.
"It's the Angelus," said Tric-Trac, with a grimace. "Let us pray, my
friend, for a cold-chisel--when my friend Buckhurst returns."
Still the Lizard lay, unmoved, turning the needle round and round.
Tric-Trac having devoured the cheese, bread, and an entire pheasant,
made a bundle of the remaining food, emptied the cider-jug, wiped his
beardless face with his cap, and announced that he would be pleased to
"broil" a cigarette.
"Do you want the gendarmes to scent tobacco?" said the Lizard.
"Are the 'Flics' out already?" asked Tric-Trac, astonished.
"They're in Paradise, setting the whole Department by the ears. But
they can't look sideways at me; I'm going to be exempt."
"It strikes me," observed Tric-Trac, "that you take great
precautions for your own skin."
"I do," said the Lizard.
"What about me?"
The poacher looked around at the young ruffian. Those muscles in the
human face which draw back the upper lip are not the muscles used for
laughter. Animals employ them when they snarl. And now the Lizard
laughed that way; his upper lip shrank from the edge of his yellow
teeth, and he regarded Tric-Trac with oblique and burning eyes.
"What about me?" repeated Tric-Trac, in an offended tone. "Am I to
live in fear of the Flics?"
The Lizard laughed again, and Tric-Trac, disgusted, stood up, settled
his cap over his wide ears, humming a song as he loosened his
trousers-belt:
"Si vous t'nez à vot' squelette
Ne fait' pas comme Bibi!
Claquer plutôt dans vot' lit
Que de claquer à la Roquette!"--
"Who are you gaping at?" he added, abruptly. "Bon; c'est ma geule.
Et après? Drop that box!"
"Come," replied the Lizard, coldly, placing the box on the moss,
"you'd better not quarrel with me."
"Oh, that's a threat, is it?" sneered Tric-Trac. He walked over to
the steel box, lifted it, placed it in the iron-edged case, and sat
down on the case.
"I want you to comprehend," he added, "that you have pushed your
nose into an affair that does not concern you. The next time you come
here to sell your snared pheasants, come like a man, nom de Dieu! and
not like a cat of the Glacière!--or I'll find a way to stop your
curiosity."
The dull-red color surged into the poacher's face and heavy neck; for
a moment he stood as though stunned. Then he dragged out his knife.
Tric-Trac sat looking at him insolently, one hand thrust into the
bosom of his greasy coat.
"I've got a toy under my cravate that says 'Papa!' six times--pop!
pop! pop! pop! pop! pop! Papa!" he continued, calmly; "so there's no
use in your turning red and swelling the veins in your neck. Go to the
devil! Do you think I can't live without you? Go to the devil with
your traps and partridges and fish-hooks--and that fagot-knife in your
fist--and if you try to throw it at me you'll make a sad mistake!"
The Lizard's half-raised hand dropped as Tric-Trac, with a movement
like lightning, turned a revolver full on him, talking all the while
in his drawling whine.
"C'est çà! Now you are reasonable. Get out of this forest, my
friend--or stay and join us. Eh! That astonishes you? Why? Idiot, we
want men like you. We want men who have nothing to lose and--millions
to gain! Ah, you are amazed! Yes, millions--I say it. I, Tric-Trac of
the Glacière, who have done my time in Noumea, too! Yes, millions."
The young ruffian laughed and slowly passed his tongue over his thin
lips. The Lizard slowly returned his knife to its sheath, looked all
around, then deliberately sat down on the moss cross-legged. I could
have hugged him.
"A million? Where?" he asked, vacantly.
"Parbleu! Naturally you ask where," chuckled Tric-Trac. "Tiens! A
supposition that it's in this box!"
"The box is too small," said the Lizard, patiently.
Tric-Trac roared. "Listen to him! Listen to the child!" he cried,
delighted. "Too small to hold gold enough for you? Very well--but is
_a ship big enough_?"
"A big ship is."
Tric-Trac wriggled in convulsions of laughter.
"Oh, listen! He wants a big ship! Well--say a ship as big as that
ugly, black iron-clad sticking up out of the sea yonder, like a
Usine-de-gaz!"
"I think that ship would be big enough," said the poacher,
seriously.
Tric-Trac did not laugh; his little eyes narrowed, and he looked
steadily at the poacher.
"Do you mean what I mean?" he asked, deliberately.
"Well," said the Lizard, "what do you mean?"
"I mean that France is busy stitching on a new flag."
"Black?"
"Red--_first_."
"Oh-h!" mused the poacher. "When does France hoist that new red
flag?"
"When Paris falls."
The poacher rested his chin on his doubled fist and leaned forward
across his gathered knees. "I see," he drawled.
"Under the commune there can be no more poverty," said Tric-Trac;
"you comprehend that."
"Exactly."
"And no more aristocrats."
"Exactly."
"Well," said Tric-Trac, his head on one side, "how does that
programme strike you?"
"It is impossible, your programme," said the poacher, rising to his
feet impatiently.
"You think so? Wait a few days! Wait, my friend," cried Tric-Trac,
eagerly; "and say!--come back here next Monday! There will be a few
of us here--a few friends. And keep your mouth shut tight. Here! Wait.
Look here, friend, don't let a little pleasantry stand between
comrades. Your fagot-knife against my little flute that sings
pa-pa!--that leaves matters balanced, eh?"
The young ruffian had followed the Lizard and caught him by his
stained velvet coat.
"Voyons," he persisted, "do you think the commune is going to let a
comrade starve for lack of Badinguet's lozenges? Here, take a few of
these!" and the rascal thrust out a dirty palm full of twenty-franc
gold pieces.
"What are these for?" muttered the Lizard, sullenly.
"For your beaux yeux, imbecile!" cried Tric-Trac, gayly. "Come back
when you want more. My comrade, Citizen Buckhurst, will be glad to see
you next Monday. Adieu, my friend. Don't chatter to the Flics!"
He picked up his box and the packet of provisions, dropped his
revolver into the side-pocket of his jacket, cocked his greasy cap,
blew a kiss to the Lizard, and started off straight into the forest.
After a dozen steps he hesitated, turned, and looked back at the
poacher for a moment in silence. Then he made a friendly grimace.
"You are not a fool," he said, "so you won't follow me. Come again
Monday. It will really be worth while, dear friend." Then, as on an
impulse, he came all the way back, caught the Lizard by the sleeve,
raised his meagre body on tip-toe, and whispered.
The Lizard turned perfectly white; Tric-Trac trotted away into the
woods, hugging his box and smirking.
The Lizard and I walked back together. By the time we reached Paradise
bridge I understood him better, and he understood me. And when we
arrived at the circus tent, and when Speed came up, handing me a
telegram from Chanzy refusing my services, the Lizard turned to me
like an obedient hound to take my orders--now that I was not to
re-enter the Military Police.
I ordered him to disobey the orders from Lorient and from the mayor of
Paradise; to take to the woods as though to avoid the conscription; to
join Buckhurst's franc-company of ruffians, and to keep me fully
informed.
"And, Lizard," I said, "you may be caught and hanged for it by the
police, or stabbed by Tric-Trac."
"Bien," he said, coolly.
"But it is a brave thing you do; a soldierly thing!"
He was silent.
"It is for France," I said.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"And we'll catch this Tric-Trac red-handed," I suggested.
"Ah--yes!" His eyes glowed as though lighted up from behind. "And
another who is high in the police, and a friend of this Tric-Trac!"
"Was it that man's name he whispered to you when you turned so
white?" I said, suddenly.
The Lizard turned his glowing eyes on me.
"Was the man's name--Mornac?" I asked, at a hopeless venture.
The Lizard shivered; I needed no reply, not even his hoarse, "Are you
the devil, that you know all things?"
I looked at him wonderingly. What wrong could Mornac have done a
ragged outcast here on the Breton coast? And where was Mornac? Had he
left Paris in time to avoid the Prussian trap? Was he here in this
country, rubbing elbows with Buckhurst?
"Did Tric-Trac tell you that Mornac was at the head of that band?" I
demanded.
"Why do you ask me?" stammered the Lizard; "you know
everything--even when it is scarcely whispered!"
The superstitious astonishment of the man, his utter collapse and his
evident fear of me, did not suit me. Treachery comes through that kind
of fear; I meant to rule him in another and safer manner. I meant to
be absolutely honest with him.
It was difficult to persuade him that I had only guessed the name
whispered; that, naturally, I should think of Mornac as a high officer
of police, and particularly so since I knew him to be a villain, and
had also divined his relations with Buckhurst.
I drew from the poacher that Tric-Trac had named Mornac as head of the
communistic plot in Brittany; that Mornac was coming to Paradise very
soon, and that then something gay might be looked for.
And that night I took Speed into my confidence and finally Kelly Eyre,
our balloonist.
And we talked the matter over until long after midnight.