THE GATES OPEN
The Countess de Mattos had a headache which was so severe, she announced,
that it would prevent her from landing; besides, she was not interested
in convicts. Lady Gardiner, on the contrary, was greatly interested.
Never had she been more alert; never had her black eyes been so keen. She
wanted to go everywhere; she wanted to see everything. She thought Noumea
a charming place; she had "really _no_ sympathy for the prisoners." One
might commit a crime solely for the pleasure of being sent here.
The party of five went ashore, and Kate's principal preoccupation seemed
to be to keep as close to Virginia as possible. She had the air of
expecting some choice excitement, which she might miss if the girl were
lost sight of for a moment. But nothing in the manner of Virginia or her
brother or cousin suggested that they had come to this strange spot "at
the end of the world" with any object save that of amusement. They
behaved just as they had behaved at Sydney, or any other port at which
they had called. All five strolled up, under a blaze of tropical
sunshine, to the Place des Cocotiers, and sitting on the shaded verandah
of the Hôtel de France, sipped a cooling drink concocted of oranges,
lemons and pineapple. Then they sauntered on again, much observed by a
few weary-looking persons they met, through broad streets, with long,
low, white houses.
Dr. Grayle kept beside Lady Gardiner now, and they walked in front, as
the former was supposed to have studied the subject of the penal
settlement so thoroughly as to be qualified for guide.
Kate glanced over her shoulder often; but Dr. Grayle succeeded in
genuinely interesting her in a story of an atrocious criminal who had
been expatriated to Noumea some years before. When she looked hurriedly
back, ostensibly to ask Roger Broom if he had ever heard the spicy
narrative, the three had disappeared.
Lady Gardiner flushed in anger with them for their duplicity, with
herself for her carelessness in letting them slip away. "Dear me! what
_has_ become of the others?" she exclaimed. "We must turn back and find
them."
Dr. Grayle took the defection calmly--so calmly that Kate leaped to the
conviction that he was in the plot against her. The others wanted to go
somewhere or do something without her, and this little brown-faced,
sharp-eyed man had been told off as a kind of decoy duck. But she would
circumvent them yet. She _would_ know what was going on.
"They have probably gone to buy some bit of carving or other souvenirs of
convict make," said the doctor. "Certainly we'll turn back if you like."
They did turn back, and wandered about in all the (according to Dr.
Grayle) most likely places to find the lost ones, but in vain. Kate could
have burst into tears of rage. She was hot, tired, dusty, and--worst of
all--thwarted. It was hateful to feel herself helpless in the plotters'
hands, being made to dance when they pulled the strings, and to know that
this "horrid little brown man" was secretly laughing at her behind his
polite air of concern. Yet she _was_ helpless, and had to acknowledge it.
If she left the doctor and went off on an expedition of independent
exploration she would not know which way to go, and might get into
trouble. But at last she could no longer bear her wrongs in silence; and,
after all, she had nothing to gain by being nice to Dr. Grayle.
"I suppose you think," she burst out angrily, "that you are making a fool
of me, and that I don't know it. But I'm not as simple as you seem to
believe. I'm perfectly well aware that there's a mystery going on, and
that all these elaborate precautions are to keep me out of it."
Dr. Grayle raised his eyebrows. "Then you are much more enlightened than
I am," he returned mildly. "I'm really quite at loss to know what you
mean, Lady Gardiner."
"In plain words, I mean that you are walking me off my feet to cover the
others' escape. You know perfectly well where they are, but they've
ordered you to keep out of the way, and you are doing as you're told,
like a nice, obedient little man. I never was so abominably treated in my
life."
"I can't see, even if Miss Beverly and her two relations choose to go off
for a little private sight-seeing on their own account, that either you
or I have anything to complain of," said the doctor. "We are outsiders,
and are both very well paid for our services. My opinion is that few
persons in our position receive as much consideration from their
employers as we do."
Kate was so furious at this snub (which found a vital spot) that she was
literally speechless for a moment. She would have liked to strike the
impertinent little wretch who dared put her on a level with himself; but
she could hardly do that, even in Noumea. When the wave of angry blood
flowed back from her brain, and she recovered presence of mind, she
turned abruptly and walked away from the doctor. But he was at her side
again almost immediately, keeping up with her without any appearance of
haste, though she quickened her pace in spite of fatigue, looking as
cool, as serene, as if he had been taking an afternoon stroll in Bond
Street. Evidently he had torn a leaf out of Roger Broom's book; and Kate
recalled the forgotten fact that it was Roger who had recommended him to
Virginia's notice.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "but you are now going toward that part of
the town which was burnt down at the time of the plague here, about three
years ago. It is leading you rather out of the way of the hotel, where we
were all to meet for luncheon; but perhaps you have a curiosity to see
it? I have studied a map of the place, and if you like can point out----"
"I do not like!" Lady Gardiner cut in sharply. "I wish to send a
cablegram."
"Unfortunately, that is impossible."
"_What!_ One can't telegraph from this loathsome place?"
"I thought you were so charmed with it? One cannot telegraph to-day."
"Why not to-day? Is it a holiday for the operators?"
"So far as we are concerned."
"Ah! I see what you mean now. You intend to prevent my communicating with
my friends! But this is too much. I will do so."
"I fancied you were attached to Miss Beverly."
"What has that to do with it?"
"A good deal. We are Miss Beverly's guests--or her servants, whichever
you please. In either case, we surely owe her fealty. I have been
informed that she does not wish to have any communication made with the
outside world, from Noumea."
"_I_ was not informed of this mandate."
"I dare say she thought that you would be guided by my counsel."
"Counsel! A strange word for your tyranny. At least, I suppose, there are
no orders against returning to the hotel?"
"None. So long as we are discreet."
"And in what does your idea of discretion consist, pray?"
"Keeping ourselves to ourselves. They are rather suspicious folk in New
Caledonia. Few tourists come this way. Probably we are the first people
who have landed here not on business for many a long year."
"I am not at all sure that we haven't come on business--very particular
business."
"I wouldn't make that remark before anybody else, if I were you. You
might--get into trouble."
As Dr. Grayle said this he looked steadily at Lady Gardiner. Their eyes
met, and so peculiarly cold and menacing was the expression of his that
she felt unpleasantly chilled, and even subdued. Those steady eyes so
underscored his words with sinister meaning, that Kate dared not ask
whether the "trouble" to which he suggestively referred would come to her
through him or the inhabitants of Noumea. She thought that he looked
capable of reducing her to helplessness by violence, if she showed signs
of resisting his will, and she relapsed into silence. But she had not
given up the hope of cabling to Loria. She resolved to watch her chance.
They walked back to the Hôtel de France, but the others had not returned,
though the time fixed was long past. Kate was so hungry and weary that
again she could have wept, and was secretly glad when Dr. Grayle ordered
luncheon for two, though the prospect of a meal _tête-à-tête_ was not
enjoyable. She complained, however, of being too warm and dusty to eat,
unless she could refresh herself by splashing a little in cold water, and
she had to look down to hide the light which flashed into her eyes when
Grayle consented without protest to her taking a room, and re-making her
toilet before lunch.
"Now I shall get off that cable," she said to herself. Hardly had she
entered the bare, poorly furnished bedroom when she rang, and stood
waiting eagerly for a servant to answer the summons. Presently came the
expected knock. She flew to open the door, and--there stood the little
doctor, behind him approaching a maid, probably an ex-convict.
"You rang, Lady Gardiner," said Dr. Grayle, "to ask for a telegraph form,
just as you might in a civilized place, didn't you? But this isn't a
civilized place, and the methods are not all civilized. Now, here is the
servant you rang for. If you persist in carrying out your intention I
shall lock you in this room, take the key, and tell the landlord that you
are a harmless lunatic, under my medical supervision. I think I shall not
in that case lack for assistance in keeping you within bounds."
Kate glared at him, panting, for a moment. Then, controlling her voice,
she asked the servant in French for some hot water. Having done this, she
slammed the door in the little man's face, which was the only
satisfaction she got out of the incident. She was inclined to remain
sulking in the bedroom, but though the spirit was willing the flesh was
weak, and the pangs of hunger drove her forth. Dr. Grayle was awaiting
her in the corridor, a watchdog, patient and placid.
* * * * *
The missing three did no more aimless sauntering after they had slipped
round a corner and eluded Kate Gardiner's curious eyes. Had their
business not been of life-and-death importance, they would have felt like
children escaped from school; since the least imprudence might lose them
the stake for which they played, and Kate's presence had been a check and
cause of delay. Fortunately, it was not yet the hour of _déjeuner_, even
in Noumea, and they made up for lost time by hastening to the Governor's
offices, which were in a white-painted, two-story building of wood, with
a verandah facing the almost deserted street.
It was Sir Roger Broom who had used his influence in obtaining a special
letter from the Minister of Colonies to the Governor of New Caledonia,
and he now sent it in with his card, and those of his friends, by a
clerk. For a few moments they waited, soldiers in gay uniforms, gendarmes
and convict messengers passing in and out on various errands, all gazing
with surprised, if furtive, interest at the extraordinarily beautiful
girl in white. Presently the Governor was ready to receive his guests,
and his turn came to be astonished by Virginia. She was the first lady
who had ever come to Noumea, he said, on a journey of pleasure. Ah, the
American young ladies, they were wonderful, amazing! He asked a few
questions about the yacht, the trip they had had, and his old friend the
Minister of Colonies, then countersigned the credentials for the party,
and dashed off a letter to the Director of the Penitentiary
Administration.
It was upon the latter official that everything depended. So far all was
satisfactory; but if the Director (who was supreme in authority over the
prison, not answerable even to the Governor) chose to be ungracious, they
might go back whence they had come without even attempting that bold
stroke in the hope of which they had paid this visit. They had dared,
however, show no signs of their consuming anxiety. With smiling thanks
they bade good-bye to the Governor and went on, in the fitful silence of
suspense, to the Direction.
Again the letters and cards were borne away by a clerk. There was more
waiting; and when they were ushered into a large, cool, dusky room,
strangely still behind its heavy double doors, Virginia was glad of the
gloom, lest her pallor should excite suspicion.
Afterward Roger and George said to each other that if it had not been
for Virginia they believed the Director would have politely, but firmly,
refused to grant the special privileges they craved. Others had received
ordinary permits to "view" the penitentiary establishment, yet very few,
indeed (save those who went because they must), had been suffered by the
authorities to pass the prison gates. But what Frenchman could refuse any
favour in his power to the all-conquering Virginia? The Director would
have been well within his rights, and could not have been accused of
discourtesy, if he had allowed a certain short, concise sentence at the
left-hand corner of the official sheet of paper which he signed, to
remain. But instead he scratched it out with two quick strokes of the
pen; and the doors of the prison and its cells were practically thrown
open.
He, too, asked questions, and seemed wistfully loth to part with these
interesting visitors from a far-away world, whose echoes he seldom heard.
He smiled indulgently when Virginia fluently told the story prepared
beforehand: the book she and her brother had been commissioned to write
by a prominent American publishing firm; how it was to be all about this
yachting trip, with Noumea as the _pièce de resistance_ of the story.
They expected, George Trent chimed in by saying, to stop on board their
yacht in the harbour for a day or two perhaps, but (and he made the most
of his engaging Southern accent) what they particularly wanted was to
"do" the Ile Nou, which all the books said was so "mighty" interesting.
The Director obligingly scrawled a letter to the Commandant of the prison
in New Caledonia, explained to his guests what they must do, and
cordially invited them to lunch with him. The thought of eating was
repulsive to Virginia; but Roger telegraphed her a warning look, and she
knew that she must accept. It would not be wise to let it be seen that
they were in a hurry; they were eccentric pleasure-seekers, sea-tourists;
to be in haste was to throw aside disguise.
After _déjeuner_, which seemed interminable, they were allowed to depart.
So to a group of white, gray-roofed buildings set in brilliant little
squares of garden--the offices of the executive police. Passing on, they
reached a small wooden quay, belonging to the penitential administration.
Men in ugly gray clothing, their faces shaded with broad, ribbonless
straw hats, were working at loading a boat with large boxes, which they
carried to the quay from a truck on a miniature local railway line. These
men were directed in their labour by other men in white; and Virginia
shivered all over, for this was her first sight of the convicts. What if
Maxime Dalahaide were among these forlorn wretches who toiled and sweated
in the blazing sun, with no encouragement save the rough exhortations of
the white-clad surveillants with revolvers on their hips? If he were
here, did any voice whisper to him of hope?
The _canot_ for the Ile Nou was to start almost immediately. The
credentials of the party were examined at the _douanerie_, and they were
permitted to go on board. Twelve convicts were the rowers. They sat under
an awning which protected them as well as the passengers from the sun,
but Virginia, glancing almost fearfully at their faces, saw that their
skins were tanned to the colour of mahogany by exposure. Their features
were, without one exception, marked with the indefinable yet
not-to-be-mistaken stamp of criminality, and she breathed more freely
when she had assured herself that the man they sought was not one of
them.
All they had to go upon was the vague information derived from Madeleine
Dalahaide, that her brother was supposed to be on the Ile Nou. The time
had not come yet to ask the questions that burnt their tongues; but it
was coming nearer now with each wide sweep of the convicts' oars.
The Director had been thoughtful enough to telegraph to the Ile Nou of
the visitors' arrival, and as the _canot_ approached the quay of the
strange little settlement, an officer of the prison, who had the
appearance of a superior warder, stepped forward, touching his white hat.
Virginia felt, with a thickly beating heart, that the long preface was
finished, the first chapter of the book about to begin. She looked at
this island of exile and punishment with an emotion that was not
curiosity, but which could be classified by no other word. The Ile Nou
was not to the eye the terrible place of which she had so often dreamt.
There were more low, white houses, clustering cosily together or
separated by thick, dark trees, and there were shaded streets and more
blazing _flamboyant_ flowers making patches of red in the deep green. But
beyond the town rose a hill, and there the great prison buildings stood
out grimly against the cloudless blue of the tropical sky.
They landed. The warder begged them with French politeness to give
themselves the trouble of accompanying him to the quarters of the
Commandant, who expected their visit.
The programme of conspiracy was all planned; each one's part had been
carefully mapped out, and a thousand times Virginia had gone through the
ordeal of this day in her mind. Yet now the beating in her temples
confused her thoughts. She was afraid that she should forget, that she
should make some irretrievable blunder, and that everything would be
ruined by her fault. But much might depend now upon a look or a gesture,
and she held herself in a vice of self-control, fearing that her smile on
greeting the courteous old Commandant was suspiciously forced, her voice
unnatural, or the look in her eyes a betrayal of desperate anxiety.
But the gallant Frenchman saw only the most entrancing vision of a girl
his eyes had ever looked upon. Within the bounds of reason--which meant
in honour and within the regulations of the establishment--he would have
done anything to win one of those distracting smiles which brought into
play two little round dimples. He ordered his own carriage to take his
guests to the grim hill behind the town; he sat by Virginia as they were
driven up the white, winding road; and when at last the convict coachman
drew up the horses at a great door of black iron in the blank side of a
high white wall, it was he who helped her to alight.
"You will be the only lady, not the wife or daughter of an official of
the place, who has ever entered at this gate, mademoiselle," he remarked
as the key of the surveillant grated in the lock.
The door opened, and Virginia passed through, trembling, the Commandant
at her side. They were in a long, oddly-shaped courtyard. "The place of
execution," said her guide. "In the early morning, at sunrise, a
condemned man is brought here to die by the guillotine. Through that door
yonder he comes, the priest walking by his side. To-morrow there will be
such an execution. But I suppose you would scarcely care to see that,
mademoiselle?"
"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Virginia, shuddering. "I would die myself,
sooner. What has he done--this unfortunate one--that he must suffer
death?"
"He attempted to escape----"
"What--you kill them for that, if--they are retaken?"
"No; but wait, mademoiselle. I will tell you the story. It may be of use
as an anecdote for the book you will write. This man who is to die
to-morrow morning, and who will not know that his time has come until the
knock at the door of his cell when the hour strikes--this man and
another, who were imprisoned at the Isle of Pines, stole a small open
fishing-boat, and with the branch of a tree for a mast and a shirt for a
sail, started out in the desperate hope of eventually reaching Australia.
But the alarm was soon given, and they were pursued by such a _canot_ as
that in which you came here, mademoiselle, from Noumea. One of the
fugitives was mad enough to jump from the boat, scarcely knowing what he
did. In a moment he had ceased to live."
"He was shot?"
"Ah, no, mademoiselle. The waters here are literally alive with sharks.
Bathing even near shore is dangerous. A little farther out--but I will
say no more. You grow pale."
"That is nothing. And the other man--what of him?"
"He was captured; but he is a young, athletic fellow, and in his fury at
being retaken he snatched a surveillant's revolver and shot him dead. He
was tried, condemned to death, and to-morrow at sunrise, as I said, will
expiate his crime and folly."
Virginia was very white now--almost as white as the frock which she had
chosen from her prettiest for the subjugation of these men in authority.
"What is the man's name?" she ventured to ask, her voice sounding strange
and metallic in her own ears, her lips dry.