_El Mogreb Alaska_, that enterprising sheet, duly announced the arrival
of the Duke's party. "Unfortunately," said the journal, "one member of
the Duke's entourage, the Rt. Hon. the Lord Tupping, was left behind at
Gibraltar through some mistake as to the hour of the sailing of the
_Gibel Musa_."
From which it may be gathered that Tuppy had fallen from grace. He came
on by the next boat--two days later, with a tentative grievance. That
is to say, it was a grievance that he was prepared, to withdraw in the
absence of any reproach on the part of the Duke.
Tuppy had been spending a day with a friend who was Deputy-Adjutant
Something or other to the forces.
"I didn't mistake the hour, Monty, old feller," he explained eagerly, "I
was down on the dashed pier, with all my traps, gazin' pensively at the
lappin' waves an' the sea-gulls circlin' on rigid pinions an' all that,
waitin' for you, when it occurred to me that you were a doosid long time
comin'. So I drove to your hotel an' found you'd left the day before."
They sat in the big hall of the Continental Hotel. From the narrow
street without, came the sing-song intonation of young Islam at its
lessons, and the pattering of laden donkeys. Tuppy talked to the Duke
but was looking elsewhere.
Hank had found some countrywomen of his, and surrounded by all that was
best and beautiful in Ohio, was solemnly narrating for their especial
benefit a purely fanciful description of a Moorish harem. One face in
that circle attracted Tuppy strangely.
"Then there's the laundry wife who does the washin', an' the cook wife
who does the cooking, an' the washin'-up wife, an' the sock wife who
darns the socks----"
"Oh, Mr. Hankey, you're jollying us?"
"No, sir," said Hank firmly, "when I was American Minister at Fez in
'82...."
Tuppy's explanations, having been satisfactorily exploited, the Duke
listened with amusement to the procession of unfounded statements Hank
was leading forth for the benefit of the fair Americans.
"Do you know, Mr. Hankey," said one suddenly, "we really don't believe a
word you're saying. For one thing I'm sure you was never the favourite
of the Sultan or we should have read about it in the New York Sunday
papers. And I'm certain you never married the Sultan's daughter,
Fatima, because you'd just be ashamed to confess it to a lot of nice
American girls. You're just a new-comer like the American we met on the
Fez Road who asked our guide where the nearest Beer Hall was."
A shriek of laughter greeted this innocent jest. Hank sat up, his lazy
voice became immediately incisive.
"On the Fez Road--an American?"
"He was a man with white eyes," said a voice.
"Oh, Mamie, how unkind! still his eyes _did_ look white."
Hank shot a swift glance at the Duke, and the latter nodded.
"I suppose," drawled Hank, "it would be a mighty improper question to
ask where this freeborn citizen of God's country is stayin' in Tangier."
But nobody knew. They had met the man by accident, they had seen him
once in the Great Sok, more than this they could not say.
Hank had picked up a servant, none other than Rabbit.
Rabbit is a well-known figure in Tangier society. A waif of the
streets, a bravo, an adventurer, a most amusing child of nature was this
Rabbit--so-called because of a certain facial resemblance to bunny. It
may be said of Rabbit that he disobeyed most commands of the Prophet.
He drank, gambled, and was on friendly terms with the _giaour_. None
the less he rose at inconvenient hours of the night, tucked a praying
carpet under his arm and hied him to his orisons. Rabbit had curious
likes and dislikes; he was not everybody's man.
His world had two names. The world that treated him well, and to whom
he attached himself, was "Mr. Goodman"; the world repugnant had a name
which has no exact equivalent in the English language, but which in
German would be "Mr. Shameless-dog-burnt-in-pitch-and-consigned-to-the
underworld." Hank was the time being his "Mr. Goodman," and to Rabbit
Hank delegated the task of discovering Bill.
Rabbit discharged his task in three minutes. His procedure was simple.
He strolled into the market place and found a small boy in tattered
jelab and very industriously kicking another small boy. Having
impartially smacked the heads of both, he sent them on their errand of
discovery. Then he went off to sleep. In an hour's time Rabbit
presented himself before Hank in a picturesque condition of exhaustion
and reported that Mr. Bill Slewer was staying at a little hotel near the
_Kasbah_. It was not exactly an hotel, said Rabbit frankly, but a House
of Experience, where strangers threw a Main with Fate.
"The difficulty with Bill will be his unexpectedness," said the Duke,
"there is no place in the world more suitably situated for the springing
of a surprise than Tangier."
"Where's Tuppy?" he asked.
"Tuppy has found an ideal," said Hank, "something worshipful. Did I
introduce you to that pretty little girl from Drayton, Ohio?"
"You introduced me to several pretty little girls from Drayton, Ohio,"
said the Duke.
"I mean the one that talks."
The Duke drew a long breath.
"The description is inadequate," he said, "do you mean the one that
sometimes doesn't talk?"
Hank ignored the slight to his kindred.
"The curious thing about it is that she hasn't a dollar an' Tuppy knows
it. Her father is just a plain American gentleman with a contempt for
millionaires: I doubt if his capital value runs into six
figures--dollars I mean."
"Have you been matchmaking?" asked the Duke severely, and Hank blushed.
"I've no use for lords an' suchlike foolishness," he confessed, "but
Tuppy has possibilities." His declaration in Tuppy's favour coincided
with one made by that worthy on his own behalf.
He had at little trouble secured an introduction to the laughing girl
who had acted as Hank's interlocutor.
Now, on the back of a gaily caparisoned mule, he was returning from an
excursion to the suburbs, and the girl who rode the donkey at his side
was listening demurely whilst Tuppy spoke upon his favourite
subject--which was Tuppy.
"You must understand, Miss Boardman," he said, "that mine is a blighted
life: I'm a piece of humanity's flotsam, a pathetic chunk of wreckage on
the sea of human existence."
"Oh, no, Lord Tupping," murmured the girl.
"It's true," said Tuppy gloomily, "saddled by rank an' bridled by
circumstance" (this was his pet figure), "I've been outdistanced an'
outfaced in the Marathon of Life. My whole nature, naturally pure an'
confidin', has been warped an' distorted by a variety of conditions, an'
even the early grave to which I would extend a fervent welcome--steady,
you beast." He jerked back the reins of his prancing mule, readjusted
his hat and eye-glass and proceeded--"The merciful dissolution for which
I yearned was denied me, an' doomed to tread the thorny path that leads
to oblivion--I'll knock your head off if you don't keep quiet--doomed to
stalk, if I may use the expression--a sad shadow amidst the laughin'
throng, I've become a wretched, embittered creature."
"Oh, no, Lord Tupping!" dissented the girl.
"Sometimes," Tuppy proceeded recklessly, "I'm in such a dashed horridly
low state that I don't care _what_ happens--when I would gladly change
places with fellers goin' out to war, an' all that sort of thing. I
_did_ volunteer for the Boer war, but my stupid man forgot to post the
letter."
"How splendid!" said the girl with her eyes sparkling, "have you ever
been to war, Lord Tupping?"
"Not exactly _to_ war," said Tuppy carefully, "_in_ the wars, yes; but
not _to_ war."
Earlier in the afternoon he had gently broken to her the story of his
_mesalliance_.
"I was a boy at the time an' she was a prima donna." He could not bring
himself to own up to a strong woman. "We parted practically at the
church door," he went on with melancholy relish, "information came to me
that she was already married. I dropped her--or rather I gave her the
opportunity of droppin' me."
"How chivalrous! it must have been a painful experience."
"It was," said Tuppy emphatically, "more painful for me than for her."
They threaded a way through the crowd in the Great Sok.
"Now, Miss Boardman," said Tuppy, "you know all that is to be known
about me. I've told you," he said moodily, "more than I've ever told any
feller."
Tuppy believed, when he said this, he was speaking the truth. It was
the surest sign of his confidence and friendship, that he added to the
history of his life--a history filed in most newspaper offices, and
which appeared at regular intervals in the New York journals, indeed,
every time that the strong lady changed her husband--the assurance that
he had told his hearer "more than he had ever told anybody else." In
this Tuppy was not singular.
But to the girl at his side, it was all very new, and all very, very
tragic, and there were tears in her eyes as her cavalier led the way
down the hill to the town.
In spite of his confidence she was ill-prepared for the proposal that
followed.
It was after dinner, when the cool breezes from the Atlantic made life
bearable; when the sea was bathed in moonlight and the shadowy Spanish
hills bulked mistily on the ocean's rim, that Tuppy declared himself.
"Miss Boardman," he said suddenly--they were watching the sea from the
terrace of the Cecil--"d'ye know I'm nearly a beggar, broke to the wide,
unsympathetic world, up to my neck in debt." The attack was sudden and
the girl was alarmed.
"Lord Tuppy--I'm--I'm sorry," she stammered.
"That's all right," said Tuppy easily, "don't let that worry you. But I
wanted to tell you. An' there's another startlin' statement I want to
make, I've been talkin' with your father."
"Have you?" faltered the girl.
"I have," said Tuppy firmly, "I asked him straight out if he was one of
those millionaires that grow as thick as huckleberries in America."
For a moment only the girl suspected his motive.
"I was frank with him," said Tuppy, "so doosid frank that he nearly
chucked me out of the window, but wiser councils prevailed, as dear old
Milton says, an' he listened--Miss Boardman, you're not rich."
She made no reply.
"So that's why I'm goin' to ask you to come an' share a ninety pounds a
year baronial castle in the suburbs of London. I've got a little
income, enough to pay the rent an' buy a library subscription--will you
take me?"
All this Tuppy said with an assumption of firmness that he was far from
feeling.
"There's nothin' in me--I'm a reed an' a rotter."
"Indeed you mustn't say that!" she pleaded.
"I am," said Tuppy resolutely, "I'm a long worm that has no turnin', but
I offer you the homage of my declinin' years--is it a bet?"
His voice shook. Tuppy was ever ready to be stirred by his own
emotions.
"The title ain't much good to you, an' it ain't much good to me," he
said huskily, "it's a barren possession. An unpawnable asset that has
come unsullied through the ages--I offer it to you," his voice broke,
"for what it is worth."
She accepted him, whereupon, I believe, Tuppy broke down and they wept
together.
V
Sir Harry Tanneur had one admirable British quality. He had a supreme
contempt for the foreigner. If the foreigner happened to be, moreover,
of dusky hue, Sir Harry's scorn was rendered more poignant by a
seasoning of pity. He was totally fearless of all danger. He had never
been in danger except once, when he slipped up on a banana skin outside
the Mansion House and had all but fallen under an omnibus. Thereafter
Sir Harry was the avowed enemy of the banana industry and had carried
his prejudice to the extent of refusing to underwrite a Jamaica loan.
Danger with bullets in it, danger garnished with schrapnel; danger
indeed of the cut and thrust order; he knew nothing about, and was
accordingly genuinely amused when the British Vice-Consul advised him
not to venture too far from the city.
"There's Valentini amongst the Riffi's, and El Ahmet playing round with
the Angera people, and a thousand and one cutthroats wandering about,
robbing each other," said the official, "altogether it is fairly unsafe
to move out of Tangier without an escort."
Sir Harry smiled tolerantly.
"Thanks," he said airily, "it's very proper of you, of course, to warn
me, you've got to protect your department, but I'm quite able to look
after myself, and if it comes to fighting," he chuckled, nodding at Hal,
"we've a fellow here who can teach these rascals a thing or two."
Lieutenant Hal Tanneur of the 9th West Kent, remarked modestly that
there were one or two dodges, he could show them.
So in spite of all warning, Sir Harry rode out on the Fez Road, with
Alicia on his left and the military gentleman on his right, and two
mules, bearing respectively a cold collation and Mahmud Ali, that
magnificent courier, guide, interpreter and bodyguard behind them.
It was not as pleasant a ride as Alicia had anticipated. Sir Harry was
not in his very best mood, and Hal was sulky. That morning in the
market Sir Harry and his son had come face to face with the Duke. An
unexpected meeting for Sir Harry, who had not dreamt that the Duke would
so completely fulfil his prophecy. With some vague misgivings Sir Harry
remembered certain conversation with Bill Slewer.
He had been vexed at the time, and had perhaps spoken hastily and
foolishly. He recalled dimly an historical parallel. A king had once
said in his anger "Will nobody rid me of the turbulent priest," and
straightway four rollicking spirits had driven over to Canonbury--or was
it Canterbury? and sliced off the head of a worthy bishop, Cardinal
Wolsey or somebody of the sort. These thoughts filled his mind as his
Arab barb trotted through the sand.
In his annoyance he had accused Alicia of encouraging the Duke to follow
her, and she had indignantly denied it. Hal, rashly coming to the
support of his father, had been entirely and conclusively squashed.
So three people rode forth on a picnic harbouring uncharitable thoughts
toward the Duc de Montvillier.
Sir Harry's wrath was tinctured with fear because of Big Bill Slewer of
Four Ways, Texas.
Hal's anger was inflamed by jealousy, for he was in love with his
cousin.
Alicia's annoyance was directed against the Duke because he had been the
cause of her embarrassment.
Was Bill Slewer in Tangier? Sir Harry had sent the imposing Mahmud Ali
to inquire, but Mahmud Ali had no familiars, as Rabbit had, and the
answer he brought to his employer was unsatisfactory.
They rode in silence for an hour, with no sign of the enemy the
vice-consul had foreshadowed. Alicia was in ignorance of that
interview. Sir Harry had not deemed the conversation sufficiently
interesting to repeat.
When they had reached the little hill whereon lunch was to be taken, he
unbent. Possibly a pint of excellent champagne was responsible for his
garrulity.
"Danger?" said Alicia, looking nervously about. "Oh, uncle, what a
ridiculous thing to say."
"So _I_ said, my dear," said Sir Harry; "with Gibraltar a stone's throw
away, and a British fleet to be had for the asking--it is all bosh to
talk about danger."
"That is what _I_ said, governor," corrected Hal. "I pointed out that
Morocco is in too dicky a position to fool about with British
subjects--now who the devil is this?"
His last words were addressed to nobody in particular and Alicia
followed the direction of his gaze.
Over a sandy ridge two miles away, pranced two horsemen. "Pranced" is
the word, for that is the impression they conveyed. Hal, who was no fool
despite all contrary views that might be held, knew that they were
galloping pretty hard.
"They are making straight for us," said Sir Harry, and his face was a
little pale.
Hal jumped up and gave an order to the guide. "Pack these things up as
quick as you can," he ordered; "we can't be too careful."
He raised his glasses and fixed them on the riders. Then he swore.
"That damned Duke," he said and heard a long-drawn sigh behind him,
where Alicia stood.
"Duke!" muttered Sir Harry, "confound the fellow! I thought it
was--er--well, never mind. Who's the other man?"
"Who?" snorted Hal. "Who could it be, governor, but the Yankee person."
"Hum," said Sir Harry.
He was surprised to find that he did not resent the coming of his enemy
as much as he thought he should. He bowed stiffly as the two drew rein,
and was ready to be conventionally distant and polite. But he was
unprepared for the Duke's greeting.
"What the dickens do you mean by coming out so far," demanded the Duke
angrily. "How dare you expose Alicia to this danger!"
"Sir!" said the outraged knight.
"Get up, get up on your horses," commanded the Duke unceremoniously and
like children they obeyed. Alicia stole a look at her lover. She
experienced a shock.
His face was set and white, just as she had seen it twice before. There
were rigid lines about his mouth and face, and his underjaw was thrust
forward so that his whole face was transformed.
"Trot!" he said shortly, and they began their journey homeward.
Now and again Hank would turn in his saddle and look earnestly backward.
"Have you any arms?" asked the Duke suddenly.
"I have always made it a practice----" began Sir Harry.
"Have you got arms?" the Duke cut him short.
"No, I haven't!"
The Duke's lips curled.
"You wouldn't," he said and Sir Harry very rightly resented all that the
words implied.
"Have you, Tanneur?" the Duke asked.
"I've got a revolver," said Hal meekly.
"Good; you, at least, have a glimmering of intelligence--do you see 'em,
Hank."
The American shook his head.
"There's a ridge running parallel with us," he said, pointing away to
the left. "I guess they are keeping up level, we'll see 'em soon."
The girl looked at the deserted ridge and her heart beat faster.
The Duke turned in his saddle and beckoned the guide.
"Did you know where you were taking these people?" he asked.
"By God and the prophet----!" the man protested.
"You didn't know Valentini was holding these hills, eh?"
The Duke's eyes glittered.
"Keep close to us," he ordered, "if you try to bolt when the shooting
starts you're a dead man--sabe?"
"Si, senor," stammered the guide.
"Shooting! shooting!" spluttered Sir Harry, "is there any danger?"
"Yes."
"Danger to _us_?"
He received no answer.
For the next ten minutes they rode without speaking a word. Sir Harry
thought a great deal.
"As you have taken so much trouble," he said at last, "I feel it is only
my duty as a Christian and a gentleman to tell you that I have every
reason to believe that an enemy of yours----"
"Bill Slewer," interrupted the Duke brusquely. "Yes, I know all about
him. In fact I happen to know that he has prepared a little ambuscade
for my especial benefit. He is waiting for my return to-night."
He said this in a matter-of-fact tone, as though referring to a dinner
engagement. Alicia looked at him in some concern, and he smiled.
"I'm not worrying about Bill," he said; "it's----" He pointed to the
ridge.