The Pursuit Part 30

She breathed a little quickly.

"Yes?" she asked. "You have brought news--of what?"

The tall man swung himself off the ladder, drew himself upright, and saluted.

"Mademoiselle, I am Sergeant Perinaud, attached to the office of the military police here. I attended M. Aylmer during our ride in pursuit of the man named Landon, who was escaping with certain desert knaves of the Beni M'Geel. We overtook them--"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_Mademoiselle, I am Sergeant Perinaud_"]

She interrupted with an exclamation of delight.

"You have the boy?" she cried. "You recovered him?"

He shook his head.

"No, Mademoiselle. We were betrayed into an unfortunate ambush. We lost five men out of ten in addition to further losses at an earlier date in the proceedings. Monsieur le Capitaine has been badly hurt."

He looked at her keenly with a sort of speculative curiosity. And Daoud frowned. For there was no sign of commiseration in her glance. She showed annoyance, almost disgust.

"You had your hands upon these men and they escaped you?" she cried.

"We were within a very little of arresting them, Mademoiselle, but by an Arab trick in which I regret to say they showed more intelligence than we were capable of divining, they defeated us. I am directed by Major d'Hubert to report to you fully on the incident if you desire it."

She made a vehement gesture.

"If!" she cried. "If!"

With an accession of woodenness in his demeanor, the sergeant drew himself up yet more stiffly, repeated his salute, and in a few precise words gave the story of the pursuit. But, as he described Aylmer's fall, it was to be noted that his voice and bearing relaxed. A tinge of the dramatic colored his level tones. His eyes--his hands were called upon to emphasize the description of the headlong plunge into the black trap of the silo--indicated the feelings of an onlooker rather than a mere reporter, as he described the sealing of the prison mouth. And as she listened, she gave a little gasp. In the background Daoud flung his colleague a little nod of approval.

"And then?" she asked breathlessly. "And then?"

"I was unhorsed, Mademoiselle, and somewhat beaten about the head, as is evident. I found shelter in a neighboring patch of mallow, where, after a season, I was joined by my friend here. The Beni M'Geel having departed, we watched their route as a matter of precaution for a mile or two, and then returned. We were unable to deal with the slab upon the cellar mouth."

This time his voice had been level enough, but he made his pause effective.

She gasped again.

"You left him there?"

He smiled.

"Yes, Mademoiselle, but not without rendering him a.s.sistance. Not being able to remove the stone, we merely dug another entrance. The outer earth was hard and baked, but after pecking off a few inches with our knives we fetched water from the river and easily softened it. We fas.h.i.+oned a couple of wooden shovels. Thus we dug down into the prison in an hour or two. We found the captain delirious."

"Yes?" she said again, eagerly. "You brought him away?"

"Mademoiselle forgets that we had no horses. Daoud remained with him. I walked to our nearest outpost--at Ain Djemma--to fetch a.s.sistance."

His tones were absolutely matter of fact, but some instinct of comprehension made her look at him yet more keenly and thus note the weariness which his voice could hide, but not his drawn features.

"You walked, how far?" she questioned.

"I have no exact idea, Mademoiselle. For some hours. I could not obtain a surgeon; there was but one at the post and his hands were full. An orderly of the ambulance came with me with a _cacolet_ and a small escort of Cha.s.seurs. But we have not dared to remove the captain, whose fever has reached a serious height. The orderly advised that I should come direct to the town and obtain either medical help, or, if possible, one of the _Dames de la Croix Rouge_. But there is an epidemic of fever at the hospital and an influx of wounded from the Tirailleurs' foray of four days back. Neither surgeon nor nurse can be spared for one man."

For a moment there was silence again. Perinaud looked at her with a sort of questioning apathy, with the detached air of one having done his duty and awaiting the decrees of fate. But Daoud moved restlessly, and then broke into speech, as if some irresistible impulse moved him.

"I think my master is likely to die, Mademoiselle," he said.

And then he, too, waited, in a sort of queer, hushed expectancy, as if his words must result in some definite action.

"We have medical comforts on board," she said quickly. "We will put anything we possess at Captain Aylmer's service."

Perinaud nodded again solemnly.

"The dislocated shoulder has been dealt with, Mademoiselle, and the broken bone set. The orderly, also, has quinine for the fever, which is high. We might be doing right, perhaps, in taking back any other remedies which your intelligence can suggest."

His tone was meditative and judicial, and intimated quite distinctly that this was a side issue and not the objective of his present mission.

He continued to stare at her steadily, without any tinge of offence, but with a questioning directness which spoke volumes. "I am waiting," it seemed to say. "I have given you your cue. Speak your part."

She looked from him to the Moor, read the same message in the latter's air of antic.i.p.ation, and then spoke, desperately.

"What is it?" she demanded. "You want--something?"

The man looked not exactly embarra.s.sed but disconcerted, surprised. His eyebrows rose a fraction, he flashed a swiftly inquiring glance at the Moor. The other nodded.

"The captain's fever and delirium is very great, Mademoiselle," he said slowly. "We thought--" He hesitated. "The captain, in his wanderings, used your name frequently."

She understood in a moment. Aylmer, in his fevered unconsciousness, had--what had he done? Placed himself, and her, in a false position?

These stolid, unimaginative men, at any rate, regarded her as his fiancee! She was not eager, vehement, to rush to her lover's side! No wonder they showed astonishment.

She stood silent, perturbed, at a loss. And the two impa.s.sive faces watched her. And again a tiny spasm of fear throbbed through her. Fate was fighting for this man, it seemed. Helpless, unconscious, cast away in this rat-hole in the wilderness, his plight worked for him where his own powers could not. His very helplessness appealed to her. Could she refuse the duty which was being plainly forced upon her by the mute message of those four watching eyes? Her imagination began to work. She saw a gloomy pit, a white face wasted with fever, heard a voice which, unconsciously, perhaps, but still appealingly, called upon her name. And this was the debonair soldier who had ridden out three days before to do--what? Her bidding, no less. A flush rose to her brow.

"I have not a nurse's training," she a.s.sured Perinaud quietly, "but I will come with you, if you will wait."

The sergeant saluted.

"At Mademoiselle's service," he said placidly, and then turned towards his colleague and sighed, a deep suspiration eloquent of relief.

At the door of the saloon she hesitated. She could see her father at his desk, bent over his papers, writing methodically. A sudden irritated sense of shyness fell upon her. Surely he, too, could not misunderstand.

He looked round at her entrance. Without preamble she repeated the sergeant's report, speaking in level, matter of fact tones. She announced her decision to return with Perinaud and his escort.

Her father's first comment was no more than his usual deferential little nod. But there was a slightly strained silence between them as she finished speaking--a silence which gave him time for reflection.

"You think your presence necessary, likely to benefit him?" he said questioningly.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"He has been wounded in our service," she said. "These men seem to expect much of my nursing--I who have never nursed. I hardly see a way to refuse graciously."