“WHO are you?”
The voice that addressed Hugh was rich and imperious.
Hugh looked at the strange face with startled eyes. “A hunted man,” he answered.
The other laughed. “I, too, am a hunted man. Come, you are faint with cold and fatigue. I will give you shelter.”
Hugh clutched his arm. “Don’t let them get me,” he said with a shudder.
The other laughed scornfully. “Don’t be afraid. With me you will be safe. Come.”
He lifted Hugh to his feet, and, half supporting him, led the way up the rocky path.
“You see the door of my home?”
“No, I see nothing.”
“Yonder black hole in the mountain side. That is my front entrance. Incidentally there is a back one for my private use, and only known to myself. But maybe you have heard of me. I am Angelo Rocco.”
Hugh started.
“The ... ah! Celebrity?”
The man laughed again.
“Do not be afraid. You are no enemy of mine, and he who is not my enemy is my friend. Come, you shall bear witness to a bandit’s hospitality.”
They reached the mouth of the cave.
“See,” said Rocco, “from here I can overlook the whole mountain side. If twenty men came to take me, I could shoot them all down before they reached the door. If fifty came I could shoot half, and the other half would look for me in vain. But then no one troubles me. It is understood if I keep out of the way they will leave me alone.”
They crossed the threshold of the cave. For some distance it was well lighted by the circular entrance. Blankets were hung over the walls; furs were strewn on the floor. A hammock swung from staples fixed in the rock. On either side were two long banquettes of oak, and near one of them a black cupboard, on the door of which hung a large ivory crucifix. Rocco threw open one of the banquettes.
“Look! there are some dry clothes. Change into them. Wrap some of these blankets about you, and lie down. I will make a fire and give you some hot soup.”
Hugh did as he was told. He had almost dropped off to sleep when Rocco brought him a big bowl of soup. It was rich and meaty. After he had drunk it, he could no longer fight against his drowsiness and closing his eyes, slept as he had never done before.
He awakened gradually, and with a growing sense of tranquillity. The cave was brightening in the light of another dawn. Outlined against the sky and framed in the circle of the doorway he saw the superb figure of Angelo Rocco. The bandit turned and greeted him.
“A moment ago,” he said, “I saw a shadow moving at the edge of the pine wood. Ha! there it is again.”
He snatched up a rifle and fired.
“There! that will frighten him, whoever he is. If he means no harm, let him come out into the open. Now I will give you some breakfast. My friends keep me supplied with food from the city. I shoot game, but once in a while it is good to eat civilized food.”
They had a breakfast of coffee, bacon and bread. Afterwards they smoked, and Rocco talked. Hugh watched him in admiration. Never had he seen such a perfect man. He was tall, strong and springy as a panther. He had ebony black hair, and a clipped beard and moustache, which did not conceal the strength and character of his face. His fine lips had a haughty twist and his dark eyes were full of stormy fire. He moved with grace, carrying himself like a king.
“You must stay here for some days,” he told Hugh. “Rest your nerves. I am glad of a guest. With me you will be safe.”
He rose, looked keenly over the mountain side, then came slowly back.
“I see no more shadows. For a time at least we have driven off your wolves. Who are they?”
Hugh gave an account of the fight at the inn. When he came to the death of Pascal, Rocco’s face grew dark.
“They killed him, the devils! My good friend, Père Pascal. And who is there then to avenge him? You know, here in Corsica, a life must pay for a life. I had no wish to kill another man. There has been too much killing. But my friend ... my old friend ... well, we will see.”
After that Rocco grew restless. He strode up and down the cave, constantly stopping at the door to stare out. At last he said to Hugh:
“If you do not mind being alone, I will go down into the forest. If any one should come, you must retreat by the passage to the left. In case you want to sleep I will show you where you will be safe.”
A jut of rock nearly closed the passage, but further on it opened out again. At the end of fifty yards it appeared to come to a stop. Rocco held up the light he carried, and showed Hugh a cleft high up in the rock. It was lined with furs and formed a kind of natural bunk.
“Here is where I sleep when the gendarmes are in the neighbourhood. You will be safe here. If you should be further pursued, you have only to roll over that boulder at the far end. Under it you will find a hole down which you can lower yourself. It leads to a subterranean gallery which has many branches and where no one can find you. Only be careful not to get lost. And the boulder too,—I fear it may be heavy for you to move. But I do not expect to be long absent. In the meantime I do not think any one will trouble you.”
As he descended the mountain, the bandit kept well under cover. Hugh watched him till he disappeared into the forest. From the mouth of the cave a magnificent panorama outspread. The mountains looked as if they had been hacked out by an angry god. Their flanks were naked. Moving cloud masses scarfed them for a moment, only to be rent aside again, and reveal new vistas of desolation. The vast abyss of the valley was packed with pines.
The time passed slowly and Rocco seemed to be long in returning. At noon Hugh relit the fire and cooked himself some food. He found that one of the banquettes was stored with provisions, the other with clothes. Rocco had things well arranged.
When he had finished eating, he let the little fire go out, and sat gazing over the valley, dreaming away the hours.... Margot would be married on the seventeenth, that day week. The thought made him miserable. He felt he would give anything to prevent the marriage. He tried to analyze his feelings. He wanted her and yet he did not want her. He wanted her because another man wanted her; or rather, while he didn’t want her himself, he did not want any one else to get her,—a most dog-in-the-mangerish feeling. He told himself that it had all worked out for the best. She would probably be happier with the other man. He envied him. Margot was a jewel of a girl, sweet, gentle, devoted. She would make a ripping little wife. He was sorry he did not love her, at least not in the mad, passionate way that mattered. He just couldn’t care for people in that crazy, headlong fashion. He was a cool, unsentimental sort of a chap. Or was he, really?...
Heigh ho! the time was long. What was keeping Rocco? What a pity about that man, condemned to pass the rest of his life in a prison of infinite earth and sky. He looked around at the few primitive comforts of the cave. There were some books, all on political economy or sociology. Yes, a great pity! A man of force and ability sacrificed because of a youthful excess of ardour. His friends said that Rocco had fired in self-defence; but the friends of the dead man were in power. All at once Hugh had an idea, a fantastic idea. Yes, that was what he would do....
Heigh ho! again. The time was infernally long. It must be about three in the afternoon. How still the mountain side was. Nothing moved. Suppose he slept a little! Taking a blanket, he crawled along the dark passage to the left, climbed up into the cleft and curled snugly in his blanket. Heigh ho!…
He was awakened from a sound sleep by hearing some one moving in the outer part of the cave. The bandit must be wondering what had become of him. He was about to jump down from his perch and greet Rocco when the thought came to him:
“Perhaps it is not he after all. I must be cautious.”
He crawled along the narrow passage, and peered around the shoulder of rock that blocked its entrance. Then he drew a deep, gasping breath, for this is what he saw:
Seated on one of the oak banquettes was Doctor Bergius. He was leaning forward in an attitude of fatigue; his eyes—so wide open that their yellow pupils looked like rings—glared at the rock behind which Hugh was peering. Hugh thought himself discovered; fear paralyzed him. From the darkness he stared back at the doctor. But it was evident the doctor did not see him, did not see anything in fact. His stare was that of abstraction; his mouth had the twist of a savage beast; his face was set in an expression of rage and despair.
Then Hugh saw Castelli, at the mouth of the cave, looking anxiously down the mountain side. He, too, looked weary and desperate. The third of the party was Gamba. Gamba alone showed no sign of hardship. The little man, compact of all that was fierce and tenacious, was hunting round the cave like a nosing terrier. Hugh started to draw cautiously back when suddenly he heard a hoarse shout from Doctor Bergius.
“Castelli.”
Castelli wheeled round sharply.
“Well, doctor?”
“Castelli, you and I have got to have a heart-to-heart talk. Here and now is a good time. Castelli, you distrust me.”
The Italian started, made a gesture of protest. The doctor strode up to him.
“Oh, I’ve noticed it for some time. The others, too. All of you distrust me. If I thought there was anything in the nature of a conspiracy between you, I’d blow you to hell this instant.”
The doctor was glowering down at the Italian. With a savage gesture he drew a revolver.
Castelli looked at him coolly.
“Go ahead, doctor,” he said. “As a matter of fact I don’t distrust you, but I can’t answer for the other two. You must admit that things aren’t very clear. You played all the other men false. You left them stranded on the Italian shore without a sou of the money. You brought it here for us to make a divide. Then you told us you had lost it; that it had been stolen from you by that fool of an Englishman in a manner you must admit to be fantastic. Can you blame them if they think you want to bilk them, too? Now, personally, I believe you; but if we don’t find this Englishman and recover the money, I give you fair warning there is likely to be trouble. It’s no use threatening me, doctor. Remember we are three against one, and none of us very squeamish about taking life.”
“By God, it’s true, Castelli. I’ve been outwitted, and by a fool. Aye, that’s what hurts. He must have spied on me at the hotel. I could not take the bag about with me everywhere. He profited by an hour’s absence, only an hour, to get possession of it. He’s got it, got it all. He’s hidden it till he can come back safely and get it away. That’s why we’ve got to find him, got to hunt him down. He mustn’t leave the island. He’s here somewhere in these cursed wilds. He must not escape us. We’ve got to get him, Castelli; and, when we do, I’ll torture him till he tells; then kill him afterwards with my own hands. Ha! that will be the happiest moment in my life,—when I kill the dog.”
“Well,” said Castelli, “we haven’t got him yet! There’s no use wasting time; it’s evident he’s not here.”
“Leave no stone unturned. It was just a chance that he might have taken refuge with this Rocco. Where is the fellow? He might at least be able to give us some information.”
“Gone off hunting probably. Still he’s been here not so long ago. See, the ashes of his fire are still hot.”
“We may as well go. We’ve no time to spare. Stay! as we are here, we might as well search the place. There are three passages. I’ll take the centre one; Gamba can search the one to the right, while you examine the one to the left. Got an electric torch?”
“No, matches.”
“All right. Go ahead.”
Feeling his way along the wall, Hugh ran back into the darkness. There was not a moment to lose; Castelli was almost in the passage. He must escape. Ah! the boulder that concealed the secret exit! He reached it and tried to move it. In vain! Again he tried with all his strength. He was able to budge it only a few inches. Castelli was already at the opening. No, he could not shift this cursed boulder; he would be caught like a rat in a hole! Castelli was in the passage now, trying to light a match. As Hugh flung himself flat against the rocky wall, his uplifted hands came in contact with the ledge of the cleft where he had been sleeping. Quick as thought he drew himself up and shrank back till he was wedged into the rock itself.
Castelli was fumbling and stumbling. He was striking a fresh match every minute and swearing audibly. Hugh saw a faint glow, then darkness, then the glow again. Castelli did not like his job; but he was taking no chances. Nearer and nearer he drew. Now he had come to the end of the passage, just below Hugh’s hiding place.
“Sapristi! My last match,” Castelli muttered. He struck it, holding it high above his head, and examined the opposite wall. The light just came to the ledge within a foot of Hugh’s face. Then Hugh did something for which he was proud as long as he lived. Reaching forward, he softly blew out the light.
He heard Castelli curse; but the Italian had his back to him and did not realize where the draft had come from.
“There! that’s out,” he exclaimed. “But there’s nothing here. I’m off.”
Hugh breathed freely again as he heard Castelli groping his way out. He could scarcely realize his luck. On such small things human destiny often turns. Had Castelli possessed another match he would surely have been discovered. He raised himself, confident of his safety, and listened. He heard the distant voice of the doctor.
“No sign of any one. The passages Gamba and I examined dwindled away in the rock.”
“Mine, too, came to an end,” said Castelli. “I felt the walls all round. Not even a rat-hole.”
Then the voices ceased and Hugh heard the men scrambling out of the cave.
Darkness had fallen and still Rocco did not return. The cave-mouth was a ring of velvety blue patterned with stars. The air was exquisitely cold and pure. As Hugh cowered in the darkness he wrapped himself in a blanket. The silence was breathless, acute. Staring up at the blue circle of sky, he listened to the beating of his heart. Then suddenly, noiselessly, a dark form loomed up between him and the stars. It was Rocco.
The bandit walked like one very weary. He threw himself down and lit a cigarette. After he had drunk the soup Hugh heated for him, he drew a deep sigh.
“You have been long,” commented Hugh.
“Yes,” said Rocco; “I have done much, seen much, learned much. Incidentally I have killed a man.”
Hugh gazed at Rocco in silence. After a deliberate pause the bandit went on:
“Yes, I killed him, or was the means of his meeting his death. I will tell you.”
Through the mouth of the cave came the pure air perfumed with pines. Hugh wrapped his blanket around him and settled down to listen. In the darkness he could see the glowing tip of a cigarette, and from behind it hear the roll of a rich voice.
“When I left you,” said the voice, “I went to the inn. I found the body of poor Pascal in the pool. There was a bullet wound in the head. They must have struck him when they fired at you. However, that does not matter. Pascal has an enemy. The crime will be put down to the vendetta. A convenient institution, the vendetta; it covers a multitude of sins.”
There was a reflective pause. The cigarette glowed and faded; then the sonorous voice went on:
“I took my poor dead friend out of the water and carried him into the kitchen of the inn. I laid him on the table, straightened his limbs, folded his hands over his breast, and put a crucifix between them. Then I knelt down and said a prayer for the welfare of his soul....”
The voice was silent for a little. The round mouth of the cave was brightening, and the stars shrinking back affrighted. The voice grew tense.
“It was while I was praying that the man entered. He saw neither myself nor the body, for the place was in darkness. He went over to where your clothes were and began to search them, the pockets, the lining. It was while he was doing this that I put a pistol to his head.”
A deep laugh awoke the echoes of the cave. Into its circular mouth crept the silver edge of the moon.
“I never saw a man so scared. You should have seen him jump. I backed him against the wall with his hands high in the air. I pointed to the dead man. ‘You killed him,’ said I. He shook his head. ‘Then,’ I said, ‘you helped to kill him. Tell me, and I’ll give you a chance for life. Otherwise I’ll shoot you where you stand.’ Then he told me that he had seized and held Pascal while his comrade had strangled him. ‘So,’ I said, ‘that was the way of it. Well, you are equally guilty, but you shall have a chance for your life. Have you a knife?’”
Rocco’s cigarette went out. He took his time to light another. The velvet circle cut the moon in half. Hugh could see the face of Rocco now, a pale, grim, tragic face. The bandit went on:
“‘Yes, I have a knife,’ answered the man. ‘And can you use it?’ I asked. ‘None better,’ said he. I marched him out of the place to the clearing in front of the inn. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘look ... I throw away my rifle, my pistol. Knife to knife we will fight it out. You for your life; I to avenge my friend. Is it well?’ And he answered me; ‘It is well.’”
Rocco rose and stood before Hugh. The full round of the moon was framed in the circle of the cave-mouth. It lit up the magnificent figure of the bandit, as he went on:
“The man was a brute, but he was brave. His eyes gleamed. I could see in them the joy of the fight. He thought he had me. He drew a long bladed knife. I drew mine. There in the forest we circled round, watching each other like two cats. Suddenly he leaped. He was holding his knife like a sword, point up to strike at the belly. I caught his wrist as he stabbed. Then I dropped my own weapon. I reached round him and forced his knife hand behind his back. He was strong; I never wrestled with a stronger. We had a tough struggle; and they say there is not in all Corsica my match for strength. Slowly, surely, I twisted his knife hand behind him; then suddenly I tripped him up. He fell, fell on the point of his own knife. It went right through his back and stuck. He died quickly. You would not say I killed him, would you?”
“No; without going into details, one might say he stabbed himself.”
“That’s it. Damn details. I do not want to have another death at my door. Well, that’s one of your enemies settled. And the other three.... Oh, I know they came here. I was afraid they had got you; they are hunting for you high and low. They have horses and spies. The stations are all guarded; the country people warned. A dazzling price is set on your head. So much I have heard from some wood-cutter friends of mine. Alas! my young friend, I fear Corsica is too hot for you. The sooner you are out of our brave little island the better.”
“What must I do?”
“There’s a boat sails for Marseilles to-morrow. You must catch it.”
“But how?”
“I will conduct you by a secret trail through the woods to the railway, at a point only fifteen miles from Agaccio. After that you must take your chance. See, I have brought your clothes from the inn. Now we will both sleep, for we must be up at dawn; you have a long, hard day before you. Believe me, I do not exaggerate the danger you are in. But I will do my best for you, and I hope you will get through. Now sleep....”
Hugh stretched himself out in his blanket; as he closed his eyes, the moon sailed out of the pool of sky and the cave was plunged in darkness.