The Pursuit Read online

  THE PURSUIT

  by

  FRANK SAVILE

  Author of "Beyond the Great South Wall," etc.

  With Illustrations by Herman Pfeifer

  BostonLittle, Brown, and Company1910

  Copyright, 1909, 1910,By Little, Brown, and Company.

  All rights reserved

  Published, June, 1910

  The University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A.

  _"I know now that you are a gentleman," she said simply_]

  CONTENTS

  I. THE LADY OF THE PIER

  II. AT THE TENT CLUB

  III. THE SHADOW OF A NAME

  IV. DESPARD EXPLAINS

  V. MR. MILLER

  VI. LANDON'S NEW PROFESSION

  VII. VILLA EULALIA

  VIII. THE FIRST TRICK IS LOST

  IX. AYLMER IS EXPLICIT

  X. BY FAVOR OF THE FOG

  XI. RATTIER LOSES HIS CALM

  XII. THE AMBUSH OF THE BROOM

  XIII. THE TRAP

  XIV. ONE SIDE OF A BARGAIN

  XV. PERINAUD'S NEWS

  XVI. AT MELILLA

  XVII. MUHAMMED SCORES TWICE

  XVIII. THE SANTA MARGARITA'S LAZARET

  XIX. MILLER IS STILL IMPERTURBABLE

  XX. AYLMER CLIMBS--AND FALLS

  XXI. FATE STAYS HER HAND

  XXII. THE PRISON

  XXIII. PADRE SIGISMONDI

  XXIV. LUIGI'S HOSPITALITY

  XXV. FATE'S FINAL WORD

  XXVI. DAWN COMES

  XXVII. SHADOWS GO

  XXVIII. FATE SMILES AT LAST

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  "I know now that you are a gentleman," she said simply

  "You saved the boy!" she said, in a quick, panting whisper

  "Mademoiselle, I am Sergeant Perinaud"

  She gripped the protecting hand between her fingers

  THE PURSUIT

  CHAPTER I

  THE LADY OF THE PIER

  It was not the muleteer's shove, slight but significant though it was,which produced John Aylmer's shrug of irritation. His resentment wasdirected at himself. He realized that he had been guilty of a gaucherie.For thirty seconds he had been standing halted in the main street ofTangier, a rock of obstruction to all the rabble traffic which passesbetween the Bab al Marsa and the Bab al Sok, staring at--what?

  At a pretty woman.

  He reddened under his tan. The muleteer's shoulder had displaced him forpurely practical reasons, for, indeed, almost benevolent ones, for themules would have been capable of obtaining with their teeth what theirguardian had obtained by mere weight of his body. But Aylmer felt thatby accepted social standards a kick would not have been more than hisdue. Had he not been behaving like some cub of a cockney clerk at anEarl's Court Exhibition? His lips moved. He was muttering excuses ofhimself to himself, and knew that they were valid, but that an onlookerwould have had no clue to them.

  For it was not her prettiness which had drawn his attention to the girl.It took no second glance to assure him that she was no countrywoman ofhis, but an American. Her features had the clean regularity, hercomplexion the pale, unfurrowed smoothness which is kept intact on thewestern side of the Atlantic and there alone. The Moroccan sunlight wasproving in a dozen places the mistake the shadows made when they dulledthe gold of her hair to brown. Her eyes matched the waters of theunrippled bay.

  Though he recognized these things, they had not, in the first place,attracted Aylmer's attention. American girls--pretty American girls--areno rarity in Tangier since Mr. Cook threw over Moghreb-al-Aksa the aegisof his protection. Under ordinary circumstances he would have looked,approved, and, without altering his stride, passed on. But here wassomething which appealed to the inherited instincts of a gentleman. Whatwas it?

  Apprehension.

  He felt no reasonable doubt on the subject. Among this girl's naturalattributes, he told himself, were placidity, content, self-reliance. Thefirst two were wanting. The third was strained. There was almost a senseof furtiveness in the glances which she turned to throw not only aboutbut, occasionally, behind her. Frankly, she was afraid.

  His interest fed upon observation. He glanced at her more narrowly, heobserved her surroundings. He drew aside out of the mid-street traffic,and under pretence of lighting a cigarette, halted again in the shadowof an awning.

  She was not alone. She held by the hand a small, alert-looking child--aboy, who watched the passers-by with the happy, unconcentrated interestof childhood. His eyes reviewed his surroundings without any of thesurprise of unaccustomedness; obviously the scene was not strange tohim. He smiled at Jew and Moslem, Christian and Infidel, with a pleasantpatronage which one or two itinerant pedlars and shop touts returnedwith obsequious affability. One man, indeed,--a bronzed, hawk-nosedspecimen of the desert Arab clad in a ragged _djelab_ of brown,--laughedgaily, plucked a carnation from behind his ear, and flung it to hissmall admirer as he passed.

  The child gave a little cackle of delight as he picked it up. The girllooked down as he did so and frowned.

  "Who was that, Selim?" she asked quickly, and Aylmer saw that thequestion was addressed to a stout, muscular Moor who was in attendance.

  The man lifted his shoulders in deprecation and darted a suspiciousglance towards the crowd which had already closed upon the _djelab_ ofbrown.

  "Some desert dog," he answered sullenly. "But indeed Sidi Jan encouragesall the rabble of the Sok to take these liberties. He smiles, and thejackals think they have license to smile back."

  The object of these reproaches thrust the carnation carelessly behindhis own small ear.

  "I have seen him before--once, twice, many times," he explained. "Helaughs; he is not gray and dull like Selim. I would like to have him formy kavass."

  "I drown in perspiration three shirts a day while I wait on thee,"affirmed the fat man reproachfully. "Is this thy gratitude?"

  "I do not wish to be waited on; I wish to be played with," said thechild. "I should like to go to the sands where the Kaid's horses aregalloped, and play with the brown man. We would paddle and I would throwthe water over him. He has promised me this."

  The girl started and gave a convulsive little grip of the fingers whichlay in hers.

  "He has spoken to you?" she cried. "When--where?"

  The boy nodded his yellow mop of hair importantly.

  "Yesterday as I rode through the Sok," he answered. "He walked beside mydonkey and told me that I was a horseman already made, and should be onthe back of a black barb like Sid' Abdullah's. Then I, too, could raceupon the sands."

  The girl looked stonily at the Moor.

  "How was this, Selim?" she asked coldly. "Where was your watchfulness?"

  The man spread out his hands.

  "Am I a prophet--am I Allah Himself?" he cried aggrievedly. "There was acrowd--a press--in the Sok yesterday, wherein one had scarcely room totake breath. And you have seen for yourself. Sidi Jan snatches atfamiliarities from such as that one; the nearer the gutter he finds hisfriends the better is he pleased."

  She looked down at the delinquent, who, without being disconcerted,grinned back.

  "John," she admonished him gravely, "you are _never_ to speak or listento strangers in the Sok, or anywhere else."

  John wriggled and pouted.

  "I love the brown man," he answered defiantly.

  "He's probably a wicked, wicked man," said his monitress. "Instead ofplaying with you on the sands, he'd very likely bite you--like a camel."

  The eyes beneath the yellow mop grew round with interest.

  "Would he?" he asked breathlessly. "That would--would be fun!"

&nb
sp; Do what he could to restrain it, a smile broadened across Aylmer's face,and in that moment the girl, looking up, met his eye. He reddenedslightly again, hastily struck and put a match to his still unlitcigarette. But in that instant he had read surprise first in her glance,then the knowledge that she had been overheard, and lastly--yes, therewas no doubt about it--fear. Not the apprehension of the unknown andunexpected this time, but the thrill of distrust experienced by oneseeing peril looming unveiled before her. She was afraid of him, JohnAylmer! Her apprehension was no longer vague; he had become the targetof it.

  She dropped her eyes, made a sign to the Moor, and swung quickly towardsthe nearest shop. And Aylmer, in the midst of the mental disturbancecaused by the incident, barely repressed a smile. For the booth, it waslittle more, was stored with the coarse calicoes and prints which appealto the dwellers in the desert; there was certainly nothing there toplease the tourist or hunter of curios. No--hunted, she had turnedinstinctively to the nearest shelter. Undoubtedly she had fledfrom--him.

  He wheeled quickly and strode off down the hill towards theBab-al-Marsa. Explanation eluded him; he felt baffled. At the same timehe was conscious of a sense of relief. Instinct had brought him to ahalt, the instinct which bids the normal man stop to offer help to thehelpless even before that help is claimed. He had discovered, or thoughthe had discovered, fear in the girl's attitude, and almost inadvertentlyhad stayed to rout it. And now? What fear could have a stable foundationwhich made him, an absolute stranger, its sudden focus?

  He shook his head regretfully. To what could not neurasthenia or somesuch fashionable derangement of the nerves bring a woman in these daysof fashionable stress? And yet? Her bearing had not been that of aneurotic. And she was young, three and twenty at the outside. Her facewas unlined, her eyes clear, yet, after a moment's scrutiny, she hadfled from him. He could not dismiss the problem; he carried it with himout of the Marsa gate, along the wooden pier. Behind the toll bar he satupon a timber balk and studied it. It gave him a sense of physical painto remember the expression in those eyes, of which the sea was one vastreminder.

  A minute or two later, with a petulant shrug, he dismissed thematter--or tried to--from his thoughts. After all, mystery though itwas, the affair had no real significance for him. He had, inadvertently,frightened a lady. But no real responsibility was his. He had looked ather keenly; too keenly, perhaps, but with no shadow of offence. She hadchosen to interpret his scrutiny as menacing. They would probably notmeet again--why, indeed, should they? And yet, this decision wasmentally addressed to a possibly listening Fate to disarm it. Withoutdefining the desire even to himself, he knew that it was there. Hewanted to meet her again; he wanted it badly.

  It was with this desire still at the back of his mind that he turned hiseyes seaward on the mission which had brought him to the harbor.

  The _Diomede_? Was she in? Would her commander, Paul Rattier, be in timeto join him in riding out to the Tent Club that evening, or would theyhave to postpone their expedition to the early hours of daylight? Hestrained his glance northward where the gray bulk of Gibraltar washidden by floating clouds of Mediterranean mist.

  Two French men-of-war lay far out in the bay. A trail of black smokeshowed where another steamed eastward with invalids from Casablanca toOran. But neither of the three was the _Diomede_; he knew her squatturrets among a thousand. He gave a pessimistic little sigh. Instead ofthe jovial evening out at Awara under canvas, they would have the hotdiscomforts of an hotel and a fifteen-mile ride in the dawning to saptheir energies before the day's sport began. He looked up withdiscontent at the westering sun. It appeared to be sinking towards thehorizon with almost indecent haste.

  He pulled out another cigarette and lounged lazily along the plank,watching the traffic of the pier and shore in _blase_ indifference. Justbelow him half a dozen _barcasses_ were being filled with stout, squatlittle cattle, destined for food for the weary troops of Ber Rechid andEl Setat. The bullocks were being goaded up an incline of planks andtumbled roughly into the unwieldy lighters, and as these were filled alittle tug fussed up and towed them by threes to the waiting steamer ofthe Compagnie Mixte. And here the sufferings of the bullocks deepenedfrom mere discomfort to the fine edge of tragedy. In twos they werelassoed round the horns. The steam winch aboard the steamer crashed,and with straining necks and starting eyes the unfortunate beasts wererushed up through the air and swung with terrifying speed down into thehold. They were near enough for him to see through his binoculars thestrained mute agony of fear in the eyes of each brute as it swung. Andthere was a dog on board. Each time as the living load passed withinreach of its leap, it sprang into the air and made its teeth meet in thehelpless flesh. And the stevedores applauded and goaded him to furtherefforts. Finally the horns of one struggling animal broke. There was ahoarse laugh as it fell, to break other bones, no doubt, in the depthsof the hold, or to mutilate some former comrade below. Aylmer turnedaway with a shrug of sickened disgust. What a land of cruelty it was, ofgrinding cruelty which spared neither man, woman, nor child, andcertainly no beast! He turned his glance shorewards to avoid seeing thetragedy of the bullocks repeat itself.

  As he did so he gave a start of suddenly aroused interest. Rapidlynearing him was a man whom he recognized. He was the hawk-nosed, swarthyson of the desert who had flung the carnation at the American child'sfeet. He was walking rapidly, smiling, talking in a quick undertone toanother child, one who trotted at his side happily enough--born of hisown people, this--a little Moor, clad in a tiny bournous and a hooded_djelab_ of brown.

  They were making for the steps which led down from Aylmer's side to thehuddle of rowboats which awaited chance fares below.

  Suddenly Aylmer's attention, which had been aroused merely by the factthat the sight of the man led his thoughts back to the interest of anhour before, became concentrated. The Moorish child babbled in English!

  "A black stallion!" he said impressively. "One that will arch his necklike the dome of the mosque, and carry me past all the other horses onthe sands?"

  "It shall be as you desire, little lord," answered the man, easily. "Wehave but to take a boat from among the many below and row across to thebeach. There the horse of thy desires awaits thee. Look carefully.Perchance thou canst see it even now. Thou hast the eyes of a hawk; Iknow it."

  And then Aylmer understood. He saw that below the child's ears and alongthe line of his hair a dye had been applied. The golden curls had beenstuffed back into the hood of the _djelab_, shoes and stockings flungaway, and little dye-stained feet thrust into yellow slippers. The foldsof the bournous covered all else. It was the child of the streetencounter, the child himself!

  Aylmer's instincts, rather than any formed purpose, brought him to hisfeet and in front of the man, as the latter was about to descend thestairs.

  "Where did you gain authority over this?" he asked curtly in Arabic,pointing down at the boy.

  The man eyed him with stony imperturbability.

  "Is Tangier come to such a pass that we of the Faith have to justify toNazarenes our authority over our own children?" he asked. "Keep to thineown affairs, _Kaffirbillah_."

  Aylmer did not unbar the road of the steps. He leaned down and spokedirectly to the child, who was regarding him with half timid curiosity.

  "Is this man your kavass?" he said gently. "Is he in your parents'service?"

  The red flush of guilt rose under the brown dye. A bright yellow curlfell from out of the _djelab_ hood as the small head was shaken.

  "He promised me a horse," said lips which had begun to have a distinctsemblance of trembling. "They have only given me a donkey so far--only agray donkey."

  "Then they do not know that you are with this man; they would not allowit?" pursued Aylmer.

  The Moor broke in angrily.

  "Do not be questioned, little lord!" he cried. "This is a son ofinfinite shame and wickedness, who has no rights over thee!"

  "As many, at least, I suspect, as thou," returned Aylmer. "This is amatter f
or investigation. We will come to the post of the Spanish policeat the pier head."

  "We!" The man's eyes flashed wickedly. "I come not, nor this, mycharge."

  Aylmer shrugged his shoulders.

  "That is a matter within your discretion, for yourself." He laid hishand upon the child's shoulder. "But this one goes with me."

  A grin of rage flashed across the Moor's features. With one hand he madea quick clawing snatch at the child's arm; the other he plunged into hisbosom. As it reappeared a knife blade flashed in the sun.

  Mere instinct made Aylmer throw up his arm in defence. Experience andpresence of mind bade him fling himself to one side without removing hisknee from the path of his assailant. Matters followed the usual coursewhen this old trick of the desert is put in action. The fellow tripped,plunged forward over the outsprawled limb, and fell crashingly upon hiselbows.

  Aylmer's first thought was for the knife which gleamed upon theplanking half a dozen yards away. He scrambled to his feet and, withouttroubling to bend, gravely kicked it into the sea. At the same time hewas aware of a commotion behind him. The small child's voice was raisedin anger.

  "I hate you--I hate you!" he declaimed. "Now Selim will get me!"

  There was a reason for his wrath. Panting, blowing, and, to be frank,looking uncommonly like an over-driven buffalo, the Moor attendant wasspeeding down the pier with outstretched arms furiously gesticulating.The flap of his slippers slammed upon the boards, boat boys jeered,hotel touts made comments which no Bowdler could render into reputableEnglish. And a few yards behind him--Aylmer's heart gave a queer littleleap at the sight--ran totteringly the white-clad lady, his mistress.

  The child made an angry gesture of repulse.

  "I won't go back!" he shrilled. "I won't, I won't!"

  He looked round towards his new-found friend, who was scrambling to hisfeet. He ran towards him.

  Aylmer stretched out a hand and whirled the child up, facing towards theMoor. The latter hesitated, looked towards the advancing figures, andhesitated no longer. Behind the lady ran a couple of the newly raisedSpanish police.

  He swerved swiftly aside, dashed down the steps, and passed rapidly fromboat to boat across the gunwales till he had gained one on the outskirtof the press. He shouted fiercely to the boy who held the oars, and thelatter bent to his work. The tide was with them and they passed rapidlyacross the harbor mouth towards the yellow sands outside the town.

  The child struggled and shouted in Aylmer's arms, stretching out hishands as he saw his friend disappear in the direction of the, to him,still credible black stallion and other promised delights. He struck outpassionately at Selim as the latter's hand closed upon him like the gripof an embodied Fate.

  "I want my horse, my horse!" he wailed. "I don't want a donkey; I hateit, hate it!"

  Aylmer surrendered him, nothing loath, into his attendant's arms andthen stood expectant, hat in hand. As she saw Selim again in fullcommand of his responsibilities, the girl dropped from a run into arapid walk. She panted, she held her hand upon her breast as she joinedthem. The two khaki-clad police inspected Aylmer with something ofmistrust in their gaze.

  For a moment her breath failed her; she could only look at the captivewith half resentful, half satisfied eyes. Then she shook her finger athim.

  "You wicked child!" she cried. "You wicked, wicked child!"

  The small sinner laughed defiantly.

  "The brown man beckoned me from the door of the mosque," he boasted. "Idid see him and ran behind the mule that passed, and in at the door, andthe brown man caught me up and smeared brown stuff on my face, and ranwith me through the other door and out into the other street and coveredme with this." He indicated the _djelab_ with pride. "And Selim did notfind me. Ho! Ho! I saw fat Selim jumping like a jerboa as we passed theharbor gate!"

  Aylmer inspected him gravely.

  "I have a bamboo cane at home which would meet your case, young man," hesaid quietly. "Would the loan of it be a boon?" he asked suddenly,looking at the girl.

  There was no answering smile in her eyes. She shook her head.

  "Thank you for--your intervention," she said quickly. "No, we never beatchildren in America; we--we respect them."

  Aylmer nodded.

  "In England our plan is to make them respect themselves," he answered."I dare say both methods have their advantages." He made a gesturetowards the town. "Can I have the pleasure of escorting you back?" heasked. "Have you any further--attempts to fear?"

  There was an obvious desire for information in the question and in hiseyes.

  She made no attempt to satisfy it. She shook her head again.

  "Thank you, no," she answered. "John will have no further opportunitiesto escape us; we have had our lesson. I can only thank you again and saygood morning."

  He raised his cap in answer to her bow. He watched her turn and walkafter Selim, who held his prisoner enfolded in an embrace that gave noloophole for a second escape, little, indeed, for any movement at all.Expression gave place to expression on Aylmer's face. Irritationsucceeded surprise and that was quickly followed by amusement.

  Finally he seemed to dismiss the subject with a shrug which was allbewilderment.

  "She thanked me," he reminded himself. "She thanked me, but her mannersuggested that she would rather have flung me a sovereign to getdecently rid of me." He nodded his head with decision. "She's afraid ofme, that's the truth. Why--in the name of all that's sensible--Why?"

  Echo supplied no answer.