The Bronze Eagle (22 page)

"Maurice! where are you?" called the Comte again. And still no answer.

Pierre was continuing his audible mutterings. "Darkness as black
as——": then he shouted with a yet more forcible volley of oaths:
"Jean! you oaf! get hold of the off mare, can't you? And you, what's
your name, you fool? ease the near gelding. Heavens above, what dolts!"

"Stop a moment," cried M. le Comte, "wait till the ladies can get out.
This pulling and lurching is unbearable."

"Ease a moment," commanded Pierre stolidly. "Go to the near door, Jean,
and help the master out of the carriage."

"Hark! what was that?" It was M. le Comte who spoke. There had been a
momentary lull in the creaking and groaning of the wheels, while the two
young postillions obeyed the coachman's orders to "ease a moment," and
one of them came round to help the ladies and his master out of the
lurching vehicle; only the horses' snorting, the champing of their bits
and pawing of the hard ground broke the silence of the night.

M. le Comte had opened the near door and was half out of the carriage
when a sound caught his ear which was in no way connected with the
stranded vehicle and its team of snorting horses. Yet the sound came
from horses—horses which were on the move not very far away and which
even now seemed to be coming nearer.

"Who goes there? Maurice, is that you?" called M. le Comte more loudly.

"Stand and deliver!" came the peremptory response.

"Stand yourself or I fire," retorted the Comte, who was already groping
for the pistol which he kept inside the carriage.

[Pg 172]
"You murderous villain!" came with the inevitable string of oaths from
Pierre the coachman. "You . . ."

The rest of this forceful expletive was broken and muffled. Evidently
Pierre had been summarily gagged. There was a short, sharp scuffle
somewhere on ahead; cries for help from the two postillions which were
equally sharply smothered. The horses began rearing and plunging.

"One of you at the leaders' heads," came in a clear voice which in this
impenetrable darkness sounded weirdly familiar to the occupants of the
carriage, who awed, terrified by this unforeseen attack sat motionless,
clinging to one another inside the vehicle.

Alone the Comte had not lost his presence of mind. Already he had jumped
out of the carriage, banging the door to behind him, despite feeble
protests from his sister; pistol in hand he tried with anxious eyes to
pierce the inky blackness around him.

A muffled groan on his right caused him to turn in that direction.

"Release my coachman," he called peremptorily, "or I fire."

"Easy, M. le Comte," came as a sharp warning out of the night, in those
same weirdly familiar tones; "as like as not you would be shooting your
own men in this infernal darkness."

"Who is it?" whispered Crystal hoarsely. "I seem to know that voice."

"God protect us," murmured Jeanne. "It's the devil's voice,
Mademoiselle."

Mme. la Duchesse said nothing. No doubt she was too frightened to speak.
Her thin, bony fingers were clasped tightly round her niece's hands.

Suddenly there was another scuffle by the door, the sharp report of a
pistol and then that strangely familiar voice called out again:

[Pg 173]
"Merely as a matter of form, M. le Comte!"

"You will hang for this, you rogue," came in response from the Comte.

But already Crystal had torn her hands out of Mme. la Duchesse's grasp
and now was struggling to free herself from Jeanne's terrified and
clinging embrace.

"Father!" she cried wildly. "Maurice! Maurice! Help! Let me go, Jeanne!
They are hurting him!"

She had succeeded in pushing Jeanne roughly away and already had her
hand on the door, when it was opened from the outside, and the
flickering light of a carriage lanthorn fell full on the interior of the
vehicle. Neither Crystal nor Mme. la Duchesse could effectually suppress
a sudden gasp of terror, whilst Jeanne threw her shawl right over her
head, for of a truth she thought that here was the devil himself.

The light illumined the lanthorn-bearer only fitfully, but to the
terror-stricken women he appeared to be preternaturally tall and broad,
with wide caped coat pulled up to his ears and an old-fashioned tricorne
hat on his head; his face was entirely hidden by a black mask, and his
hands by black kid gloves.

"I pray you ladies," he said quietly, and this time the voice was
obviously disguised and quite unrecognisable. "I pray you have no fear.
Neither I nor my men will do you or yours the slightest harm, if you
will allow me without any molestation on your part to make an
examination of the interior of your carriage."

Mme. la Duchesse and Jeanne remained silent: the one from fear, the
other from dignity. But it was not in Crystal's nature to submit quietly
to any unlawful coercion.

"This is an infamy," she protested loudly, "and you, my man, will swing
on the nearest gallows for it."

"No doubt I should if I were found out," said the man imperturbably,
"but the military patrols of M. le Comte
[Pg 174]
d'Artois don't come out as far
as this: nevertheless I must ask you ladies not to detain me on my
business any longer. My men are at the door and it is over a quarter of
an hour ago since we placed M. de St. Genis temporarily yet effectually
hors de combat. I pray you, therefore, step out without delay so that I
may proceed to ascertain whether there is anything in this carriage
likely to suit my requirements."

"You must be a madman as well as a thief," retorted Crystal loudly, "to
imagine that we would submit to such an outrage."

"If you do not submit, Madame," said the man calmly, "I will order my
man to shoot M. le Comte in the right leg."

"You would not dare. . . ."

But the miscreant turned his head slowly round and called over his
shoulder into the night:

"Attention, my men! M. le Comte de Cambray!—have you got him?"

"Aye! aye, sir!" came from out the darkness.

Crystal gave a wild scream, and with an agonised gesture of terror
clutched the highway robber by the coat.

"No! no!" she cried. "Stop! stop! no! Father! Help!"

"Mademoiselle," said the man, quietly releasing his coat from her
clinging hands, "remember that M. le Comte is perfectly safe if you will
deign to step out of the carriage without further delay."

He held the lanthorn in one hand, the other was suddenly imprisoned by
Crystal's trembling fingers.

"Sir," she pleaded in a voice broken by terror and anxiety, "we are
helpless travellers on our way to Paris, driven out of our home by the
advancing horde of Corsican brigands. Our little all we have with us.
You cannot take that all from us. Let us give you some money of our own
free will, then the shame of robbing women who
[Pg 175]
have in the darkness of
the night been rendered helpless will not rest upon you. Oh! have pity
upon us. Your voice is so gentle you must be good and kind. You will let
us proceed on our way, will you not? and we'll take a solemn oath that
we'll not attempt to put any one on your track. You will, won't you? I
swear to you that you will be doing a far finer deed thereby than you
can possibly dream of."

"I have some jewelry about my person," here interposed Madame's sharp
voice drily, "also some gold. I agree to what my niece says. We'll swear
to do nothing against you when we reach Lyons, if you will be content
with what we give you of our own free will and let us go in peace."

The man allowed both ladies to speak without any interruption on his
part. He even allowed Crystal's dainty fingers to cling around his
gloved hand for as long as she chose: no doubt he found some pleasure in
this tearful appeal from such beautiful lips, for Crystal looked
divinely pretty just then, with the flickering light of the lanthorn
throwing her fair head into bold relief against the surrounding gloom.
Her blue eyes were shining with unshed tears, her delicate mouth was
quivering with the piteousness of her appeal.

But when Mme. la Duchesse had finished speaking and began to divest
herself of her rings he released his hand very gently and said in his
even, quiet voice:

"Your pardon, Madame; but as it happens I have no use for ladies'
trinkets, while all that you have been good enough to tell me only makes
me the more eager to examine the contents of this carriage."

"But there's nothing of value in it," asserted Madame unblushingly,
"except what we are offering you now."

"That is as may be, Madame. I would wish to ascertain."

[Pg 176]
"You impious malapert!" she cried out wrathfully, "would you dare lay
hands upon a woman?"

"No, Madame, certainly not," he replied. "I will merely, as I have had
the honour to tell you, order my men to shoot M. le Comte de Cambray in
the right leg."

"You vagabond! you thief! you wouldn't dare," expostulated Madame, who
seemed now on the verge of hysteria.

"Attention, my men!" he called once more over his left shoulder.

"It is no use,
ma tante
," here interposed Crystal with sudden calm.
"We must yield to brute force. Let us get out and allow this abominable
thief to wreak his impious will with us, else we lay ourselves open to
further outrage at his hands. Be sure that retribution, swift and
certain, will overtake him in the end."

"Come! that's wisely spoken," said the man, who seemed in no way
perturbed by the scornful glances which Crystal and Madame now freely
darted upon him. He stood a little aside, holding the door open for them
to step out of the carriage.

"Where is M. le Comte de Cambray?" queried Crystal as she brushed past
him.

"Close by," he replied, "to your right now, Mademoiselle, and perfectly
safe, and M. le Marquis de St. Genis is not two hundred mètres away,
equally secure and equally safe. Here, le Bossu," he added, calling out
into the night, "ease the gag round your prisoner's mouth a little so
that he may speak to the ladies."

While Madame la Duchesse groped her way along in the direction whence
came sounds of stirring, groaning and not a little cursing which
proclaimed the presence of some men held captive by others, Crystal
remained beside the carriage door as if rooted to the spot. The feeble
light of the lanthorn had shown her at a glance that the masked
[Pg 177]
miscreant had taken every precaution for the success of his nefarious
purpose. How many men he had with him altogether, she could not of
course ascertain: half a dozen perhaps, seeing that her father, the
coachman and two postillions had been overpowered and were being closely
guarded, whilst she distinctly saw that two men at least were standing
behind their chief at this moment in order to ward off any possible
attack against him from the rear, while he himself was engaged in the
infamous task of robbing the coach of its contents.

Crystal saw him start to work in a most methodical manner. He had stood
the lanthorn on the floor of the carriage and was turning over every
cushion and ransacking every pocket. The leather wallets which he found,
he examined with utmost coolness, seeing indeed that they were stuffed
full of banknotes and drafts. His huge caped coat appeared to have
immense pockets, into which those precious wallets disappeared one by
one.

She knew of course that resistance was useless: the occasional glint of
the feeble lanthorn light upon the pistols held by the men close beside
her taught her the salutary lesson of silence and dignity. She clenched
her hands until her nails were almost driven into the flesh of her
palms, and her face now glowed with a fierce and passionate resentment.
This money which might have saved the King and France from the immediate
effects of the usurper's invasion was now the booty of a common thief!
Wild thoughts of vengeance coursed through her brain: she felt like a
tiger-cat that was being robbed of its young. Once—unable to control
herself—she made a wild dash forward, determined to fight for her
treasure, to scratch or to bite—to do anything in fact rather than
stand by and see this infamous spoliation. But immediately her hands
were seized, and an ominous word of command rang out weirdly through the
night.

[Pg 178]
"Resistance here! Attention over there!"

Her father's safety was a guarantee of her own acquiescence. Struggling,
fighting was useless! the abominable thief must be left to do his work
in peace.

It did not take long. A minute or two later he too had stepped out of
the carriage. He ordered one of his followers to hold the lanthorn and
then quietly took up his stand beside the open door.

"Now, ladies, an you desire it," he said calmly, "you may continue your
journey. Your coachman and your men are close here, on the road,
securely bound. M. de St. Genis is not far off—straight up the
road—you cannot miss him. We leave you free to loosen their bonds. To
horse, my men!" he added in a loud, commanding voice. "Le Bossu, hold my
horse a moment! and you ladies, I pray you accept my humble apologies
that I do not stop to see you safely installed."

As in a dream Crystal heard the bustle incident on a number of men
getting to horse: in the gloom she saw vague forms moving about
hurriedly, she heard the champing of bits, the clatter of stirrup and
bridle. The masked man was the last to move. After he had given the
order to mount he stood for nearly a minute by the carriage door,
exactly facing Crystal, not five paces away.

His companion had put the lanthorn down on the step, and by its light
she could see him distinctly: a mysterious, masked figure who, with
wanton infamy, had placed the satisfaction of his dishonesty and of his
greed athwart the destiny of the King of France.

Crystal knew that through the peep-holes of his mask, the man's eyes
were fixed intently upon her and the knowledge caused a blush of
mortification and of shame to flood her cheeks and throat. At that
moment she would gladly have given her life for the power to turn the
tables upon that abominable rogue, to filch from him that precious
[Pg 179]
treasure which she had hoped to deposit at the feet of the King for the
ultimate success of his cause: and she would have given much for the
power to tear off that concealing mask, so that for the rest of her life
she might be able to visualise that face which she would always
execrate.