The Pursuit Part 33

Little John peered doubtfully into the darkness.

"And Muhammed?" he asked, looking at the Moor with expectant, trusting eyes.

There was a queer intensity in the Moor's glance as he bent over the small figure hesitating at the head of the steps. His smile was kindly and rea.s.suring.

"I am the robber who goes abroad, prowling to find wicked rich men who deserve robbing," he said. "I return shortly, little lord. Have no fear."

Little John nodded gravely and took his father's hand. The two paced solemnly down into the cellar. The hearthstone was replaced, the cinders set smoking upon it again. With a sigh Yakoob took up another deplorable pair of trousers and bit off a length of thread. Muhammed pa.s.sed out into the street.

Five minutes later he stood on the quayside, watching the motor launch which slid out of the shadow cast on the still waters by _The Morning Star_.

Three figures sat upon the cus.h.i.+ons at the stern, and Muhammed, as he watched them from under the hood of his _haik_, examined one of them with startled intensity. Miss Van Arlen he recognized. Aylmer, whose face was partially disguised by bandages, he debated over for a moment.

But this third? This gray-clad elder? This was not the owner of _The Morning Star_. It was--whom?

Surprise as much as relief erased the wrinkles from the watcher's face as the unknown stepped ash.o.r.e, turned to a.s.sist his companion, and disclosed the features of the Moor's former employer, Mr. Miller.

Muhammed emphasized his amazement with an oath. "One G.o.d!" he swore, and for a moment hesitated. Then, as the gray-clad man strolled past him, talking, the Moor pushed back the _haik_ which shadowed his face and met the other's glance squarely.

Mr. Miller made no sign.

Muhammed dropped back into the shadow of the quayside booths, and sauntered carelessly up the citadel ramp. The three preceded him. At the top of the ramp a causeway leads to the drawbridge which spans the fort ditch. Mr. Miller had apparently eyes for nothing but his fair companion. He failed to notice, at any rate, the dilapidated state of the iron rails which fence the bridge. The dust cloak he was carrying caught in a jagged piece of iron and was most unfortunately torn. A sudden appreciative gleam burned in Muhammed's eyes as he noted the incident. The _haik_ hood concealed a smile.

He could not hear, but he could see the expressive pantomime which was accompanying Mr. Miller's apologies. He motioned his companions forward towards the bridge and the dark entrance through the casemate into the citadel. As for himself, his finger explained, he would return to the town and get the damage repaired. After a minute's discussion, matters followed the course indicated. Aylmer and Miss Van Arlen pa.s.sed on--to seek the government offices, as Muhammed told himself, to interview the head, no doubt, of the military police.

The Moor slid forward deferentially as the gray figure turned.

"I can direct the Sidi to a _sastre_ of incredible skill," he explained.

"The Sidi has no need to return to the town if he desires such an one.

He is to be found within a hundred paces, if the Sidi so will."

Mr. Miller made an affable gesture of acquiescence.

"You are certainly quick to seize a business opportunity, my friend," he said amiably. "Lead on."

Two minutes later the two stood behind Yakoob's well-barred door, and the hearthstone had been raised. Landon offered his visitor a tribute of surprise tinged with humor.

"I understood, my friend," he said, as he took the other's hand, "that the mail came in from Gibraltar to-morrow. For you, it seems, the age of miracles is not past?"

"I hope I am an alert servant of opportunity," said Miller. "I got your letter yesterday morning."

"That does not entirely explain your presence in Melilla to-day."

Miller nodded.

"Your father-in-law has been anch.o.r.ed in Gibraltar Bay for the last fortnight. He has had information of your movements, my friend--good information, and I have not been able to determine the source of it. I made it my business to get introduced to him at the house of mutual friends. A humble client of mine, a s.h.i.+p's chandler, acquainted me with the fact that _The Morning Star's_ anchor and steam were being raised, and with the name of her port of destination. A couple of good boatmen and a little tact did the rest. I told Mr. Van Arlen that I had an urgent business necessity to visit these possessions of the King of Spain. Result--a warm invitation to antic.i.p.ate the mail boat by a day."

"Excellent!" commended Landon. "And the business necessity? You have brought the means of relieving it?"

Mr. Miller dilated his nostrils. Perhaps the reek of the fort ditch reached him. Very carefully and methodically he lit a cigarette.

"Yes--and no," he answered at last, and with deliberation. "I have money with me, my dear Lord Landon. But my employers give me no commission to apply it to--charity."

Landon's eyes grew suddenly ominous.

"The price of that book was to be five hundred pounds," he said. "I have received one hundred so far."

Miller made a gesture of a.s.sent.

"You obtained for me a certain book. Subsequent investigations proved it to be a mere dummy--a book made, in fact, to be stolen. You remain in my debt to the extent of that score of five-pound notes which I gave you."

Landon laughed a dry little laugh.

"Then I concede that I shall remain in your debt--permanently. The bungling is yours, not mine. I demand the balance of my fee. For suppose, my dear Miller, that I gave your game in Gibraltar away?"

"Suppose you did," said Miller, placidly. "It would be a question of your word against mine, would it not?"

There was nothing sneering in his tone, but its bald self-a.s.surance seemed to whip Landon's temper into fury. He swore wickedly.

Miller watched him as the weasel might be expected to watch the trapped rat. And the dark, unpleasant little room had, indeed, many of the attributes of a cage.

And then there was an energetic gesture from the gray-clad arm.

"You bungled the matter--not in stealing the wrong book," said Miller, "but in the manner of your escape. It was then that you lost your value to my employers. You are liable to be arrested in any of the British dominions. Till that matter is settled, you are a weapon without an edge, for us. That error must be repaired."

Landon stared up at him curiously.

"How?" he asked.

Miller made a significant gesture towards the child. There was no intention of menace in it, but the child shrank back, turning, not towards his father, but with a sudden instinctive outstretching of his hand to Muhammed. The Moor grasped the little fingers silently and smiled--a smile which faded as he turned his keen, watchful eyes again upon the visitor.

"You must renounce your detention of your son," said Miller. "You must bargain with his grandfather. Your price must be a certain competency, if you will, but above all the right to return unquestioned into your proper place in society. In this way alone can you continue to be of use--to me."

There was a silence. Landon, still a-squat upon the floor, his elbow on his knee, the heel of his fist supporting his hand, stared up at his mentor with impa.s.sive eyes. In the shadow on his right Muhammed stood, still holding the child's hand, his glance hovering over Miller with a speculation which was almost distrust. Behind him the tailor st.i.tched apathetically at his dilapidated wares.

Suddenly Landon turned to the Moor.

"You have heard?" he questioned sharply.

"I have heard, oh, Sidi."

"And understood?"

The man hesitated.

"There is a purpose of surrendering the Sidi Jan?" he murmured, and his voice conveyed not so much protest as incredulity.

Landon nodded.