The Pursuit Part 22

Landon faced seaward and observed the yacht keenly.

He laughed with great enjoyment.

"He is a character, that skipper of mine," he said. "He is as likely as not to sink the unfortunate boat if he does not find me on board or get a reasonable account of me. I shall have to smooth matters down with a dollar or two."

A minute later the launch slowed up against the little quay. The three pa.s.sengers stepped ash.o.r.e, Landon full of compliments and thanks. Still waving adieu, he, Muhammed, and the child paced contentedly off into the town. The lieutenant turned seaward again.

A slightly bewildered frown clouded his face as he approached the _Diomede_. The yacht had anch.o.r.ed with the lateen alongside her, and a boat was pulling from her towards the wars.h.i.+p. The lieutenant considered that for yachtsmen he had never seen a boat's crew pull faster.

CHAPTER XI

RATTIER LOSES HIS CALM

Major D'Hubert, Provost Marshal of the French forces occupying Casablanca, grinned widely.

"So you suffered him to escape?" he said.

Commandant Rattier drummed fiercely on the office table.

"Suffered?" he roared. "I entertained him--the _escroc_! I nourished him; I sent him ash.o.r.e!"

The soldier smiled and looked at Rattier's companion--Aylmer.

"What open-hearted ingenuousness!" he chuckled. "You and I now, my Captain! When one has been officer of the day a few thousand times, or sat upon a few hundred courts-martial, or acted as _maitre de logis_, one learns to sift a story then. And this one had its weak points, even for a sailor. Would any one not mentally deranged hire a lateen to take him aboard his own yacht? No, I should have required something better imagined than that--I."

Aylmer shrugged his shoulders.

"The man can make himself of an engaging personality, Major. Our friend acted according to the impulses of his generous soul. But the point is that our man is hidden in the town. We come to you for expert knowledge.

Who would be likely to shelter him, and where? You will pardon our insistence and intrusion, but our need is very pressing. It is the child who is our concern, the child."

D'Hubert made a gesture of a.s.sent.

"Apart from my sincere affection for our simpleminded commandant, Monsieur, your tale is good enough for any honest man and a father of babes like myself. But this town of Casablanca is, in effect, a haystack. Your quarry has the best of chances to act the needle."

He opened a door into an outer office and shouted a name.

"Sergeant Perinaud!"

A body filled the doorway and entered, bending the last few inches of its stature. The sergeant saluted and unfolded himself, his eyes reviewing the company with affable respect about two metres above the floor.

"Visit the guardroom at each gate, see the lieutenants of the Spanish police and bring me back a list of parties which have left the town since morning. This is a matter of haste."

The sergeant saluted again and then hesitated.

"Is it permitted first to speak?" he asked.

The major nodded jerkily.

"It is, by chance, the movements of two men and a woman which are in question?" speculated Perinaud.

Major d'Hubert opened his lips, shut them tight, meditated a moment, and then spoke. He turned and looked at his visitors.

"The child? Is it of a stature to be disguised as a woman?" he asked.

The sergeant interrupted with an apologetic gesture.

"The figure of the woman I suggest was not seen by me. She travelled in an _arba_. My attention was drawn to the party thus. Two hours ago a band of the Beni M'Geel, Berbers, left by the eastern gate as for Ber Rechid. They had with them two Arabs and a woman under the canopy of which I spoke. Arab and Berber, especially if the latter are of the Beni M'Geel, do not usually travel together."

"You observed the men?"

"Not narrowly, my Major. One was of a smiling countenance, hook-nosed, and clad in a _djelab_ of brown. He walked beside the _arba_ and his talk, as I judged it, was to the woman, who, however, made no reply. The other had the hood of his _haik_ pulled far over his face. I did not see it."

The major sat down at his desk, wrote a few lines swiftly, dashed sand upon the ink, and handed the completed note to his underling.

"Let that be taken to General d'Amade without delay. Search may at the same time be made in the town for an Englishman, his child, and a Moor attendant who landed from a launch of the _Diomede_ some three hours back. The messenger may await the general's answer and bring it to me here."

As the giant saluted for the third time and diminished himself into the doorway, Major d'Hubert confronted his friends with a pessimistic shake of the head.

"My instinct is that Perinaud has already put his finger on the mystery.

Your milord must be a man of resource. To have engaged the services of some of these wolves of Beni M'Geel within an hour of landing in a strange town shows more than talent. It amounts to genius."

"This servant of his, Muhammed, is no stranger to the port," said Aylmer. "We learned that before we left Tangier. He is a well-known gun runner, and stands high in his profession. He has made these arrangements."

Commandant Rattier flung aside his taciturnity with a suddenly impulsive oath.

"Name of all little names!" he cried. "Do we sit and discuss this matter as if it were a comedietta in which we take no more than the languid interest of the dilettante! Are they not to be pursued--this past master of perjury and his lieutenant? Are we to mount the town walls and wave them affectionate farewells?"

D'Hubert arched his brows with protest.

"Pursuit? Certainly there is a question of pursuit, if it is allowed. I have just sent a _precis_ of your story to the commander-in-chief with a request for his leave to send a patrol. In a very few minutes we shall learn whether or no we have his permission."

"Permission!" Rattier roared the word in the major's face. "I, Paul Rattier, do you see, have been made the laughing-stock of the fleet and, in time, no doubt, of half Europe! Am I to wait your general's permission to chase this scoundrel to Timbuctoo, if I so wish? I am the senior officer of marine here. I give myself leave, understand me--I!"

"And these amiable Berbers?" asked the major, sarcastically. "Supposing they turn upon you and demand your reasons, and estimate your powers?

Suppose, to be blunt, my friend, they put a bullet through your brains?"

"Would that be any worse than wearing this hat of ridicule which this Baron de Landon has put upon my head? No Moor or Touareg or Berber shall stand between me and the object of my just retaliation, if I confront him!"

A small bell tinkled in a corner. D'Hubert made a gesture of apology as he went towards a cabinet screened from the general office. He came back grinning.

"My Paul," he chuckled, "there will be shortly an insuperable barrier between you and your desire. In another hour you will not be the senior officer of marine at Casablanca. I learn by wireless that the _Barfleur_, with the admiral on board, enters the roads within the hour."

Rattier stood for an instant motionless. Then he turned and darted for the door.

Before his ringers reached the handle Aylmer's grip was on his shoulder.