The Remittance Kid Part 9

To be fair to Papa Champlain, he was only lifting the sawed-off shotgun from the shelf under the counter with the intention of threatening the very competent young woman into compliance. He would have been reluctant to use it, if only because to kill her would ruin any chance of obtaining the money he believed to have been stolen from the theatre.

For a moment, staring into the rock steady muzzle of the revolver aimed at him, Champlain thought that his female visitor's partner had arrived. Then he recognised Ballinger and knew this could not be the case. There were dishonest officers in the Chicago Police Department, but the detective lieutenant had never been in their number and would not be helping a criminal. So the proprietor drew a parallel conclusion to that reached, then discarded, by le Loup-Garou outside the Streeterville Munic.i.p.al Hospital. He a.s.sumed that the man who was covering him must be another police officer and appeared to be as competent as Ballinger in the use of firearms.

'Don't shoot,' Champlain yelled, dropping the shotgun and raising his empty hands hurriedly.

Even without the evidence that his father was surrendering, Andre had no inclination to do otherwise. With Ed Ballinger pointing a revolver at him, he knew resistance would be futile and could prove fatal.

Claude reached a different conclusion. Finding that he was not directly subjected to either of the newcomers' attentions, he saw what he believed was a way in which the affair could be brought back in his family's favour. He would grab the girl and use her as a hostage. There were flaws in his reasoning, if he had only given the matter more thought. He did not bother to consider why police officers would be greatly concerned over what happened to a female criminal, or what he, his father and brother would do after they regained control of the situation. Instead, he made a lunge forward and very soon wished he had not.

Seeing the younger Ghamplain brother approaching, Belle deduced his motives. What was more, she appreciated that he could put her companions in an embarra.s.sing position if he succeeded. So she continued to move with the speed which had allowed her to protect herself from the beginning.

As the Rebel Spy's right arm swung, the billy opened and its spring came into operation. The steel ball caught the back of Claude's outstretched left hand and elicited a howl of agony as the bones splintered. While striking, Belle had stepped aside and, as he went by, she spun on her right foot to deliver a kick with her left leg to his rump. Fast taken though it might have been, the impact sent him reeling onwards. Clutching his injured hand with the other, he fell across a table. The legs buckled and collapsed under his weight, dumping him almost fainting from the pain, on the floor. It was a sight which would have gladdened the heart of more than one prost.i.tute in his father's employment if she had seen it. Claude was noted for his rough handling of such unfortunates.

'You've come just in time, Lieutenant Ballinger,' Papa Champlain stated, not entirely dissatisfied with the way his younger son's ill-advised actions had turned out. He waved a hand towards the Rebel Spy and the rec.u.mbent Tinville, elaborating, 'I was just going to send for the police. These two are responsible for the fire and robbery at O'Malley's theatre.'

'Now wasn't that thoughtful of you, Papa,' Ballinger answered, with only the faintest trace of sarcasm in his voice. 'If there was more like you around, I swear Chicago would become so law-abiding and honest fellers like me would have to go somewhere else to find work. Hadn't you better go and find out how bad Brother Claude's hurt, Andre? d.a.m.ned if it doesn't look like he's come across one girl he can't lick.'

Watching the detective and the Remittance Kid advancing without holstering their revolvers, although he was still unaware of the latter's ident.i.ty and true status, Henri Champlain scowled malevolently at the former's sardonic comment. He knew that Ballinger was aware of the various illegal enterprises which had their origin in the Bistro le Ma.r.s.eillaise, despite there never having been sufficient evidence for an arrest. What was more, he sensed that his former immunity was now in jeopardy. A wily judge of strategy, he was a believer in attack offering the best means of defence. So he had got his version of what was happening in first. His story might not be believed, but it would at least warn his sons of the line he wanted them to take.

'Lebrun there came in earlier and asked if he could wait and meet somebody,' Papa continued, remaining behind the counter and pointing at Tinville. 'Something in his manner made me suspicious that he might not be up to anything good. So, being the law-abiding citizen I am, I had my fine sons help me persuade him to tell us the truth. Then I thought that I would help the police still further, as they would probably all be busy with the fire at the theatre. So we would catch both the woman and her accomplice when they came to meet him.'

'Hoots, mon!' the Kid e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, adopting a Scottish Highlander's accent and sounding genuinely impressed. 'Wasn't that public-spirited of you?'

'Wasn't it,' Ballinger conceded, with equally spurious sincerity, noting the change in the Englishman's voice and deciding it sounded as authentic as the Irish brogue which had been there on their first meeting. Having no doubts over why the proprietor had supplied the information, he felt sure that it was partially true. His gaze swung to the young actor, who had rolled the table aside but was still sitting on the floor. 'Get up, Mr Lebrun - or is it Marcel Tinville? - You and the young lady are coming with us.'

'You don't sound like a policeman, m'sieur,' Papa Champlain remarked, looking from where Andre was helping Claude to rise, to the Kid. Certain other factors were beginning to come to his attention, leading him to wonder whether his position was as precarious as he had at first imagined. 'In fact, you don't even sound like an American.'

'That could be because I'm not an American,' the Englishman replied, still sounding as if he had been born far to the north of Hadrian's Wall.3 He had adopted the Scottish accent in the hope of preventing Tinville from connecting him with the character he had played on their earlier meetings. However, remembering that the two men killed in the entrance hall of the hospital might have been French-Canadians, or Metis, he continued in the hope of producing an informative response. 'But I am a policeman. Inspector Macdonald of the Canadian Northwest Mounted Police, at your service.'

The incorrect introduction elicited the kind of comment it had been uttered to create, but it was made by Tinville. Alarmed over the unexpected turn of events and hurt as a result of being precipitated unexpectedly to the floor, he was still capable of thought. In spite of the scar having disappeared from the left cheek, the broken nose had led him to believe the speaker was the man to whom he had imparted much the same information as he had sold to the fiery haired young woman. Although the accent was now Scottish and not Irish, the man's announcement of his name and rank could explain why he had been employing the latter.

'The Canadian Northwest - !' the actor began. 'Then you know - ?'

Before Tinville could go any further, Claude Champlain let out a bellow of rage. Helped to his feet by his brother, his gaze had just reached the person who was responsible for the pain he was suffering. The sight of Belle detonated his far from stable temper into an eruption of fury. Hurling Andre aside, he sprang across the room with the intention of avenging the injury he had sustained at her hands.

Knowing the young man's far from savoury reputation where women were concerned, although none of the victims of his brutal treatment had dared to lodge a formal complaint, Ballinger took a step forward and started to line the Webley Bulldog at him. Not so well informed about Claude, but equally apprehensive in spite of being even more aware than the lieutenant of how capably the Rebel Spy could defend herself, the Kid was just as able to refrain from diverting his attention and weapon ready to protect her.

Taking advantage of the diversion, Tinville turned and dashed towards the open front door.

Although none of the barroom's occupants realised it, there was an interested observer watching and listening to what was happening!

1 The French national anthem, le Ma.r.s.eillaise, was, written in 1792 by Koget de Lisle. J.T.E.

2 'Midi': the southern regions of France. J.T.E.

3 'Hadrian's Walt': a defensive structure extending from Solway Firth to the Tyne, built between 122-128 A.D. on the orders of Emperor Hadrian (76-138 A.D.) to protect Roman Britain from the Picts and the Scots. J.T.E.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

YOU'D BETTER CO-OPERATE, M'SIEUR.

Arnaud Cavallier, taking advantage of the woman's escort being preoccupied with avoiding being seen by the occupants of the Bistro le Ma.r.s.eillaise, had closed the distance separating him from them. Being aware of how Henri 'Papa' Champlain received the major portion of his income, le Loup-Garou did not doubt that Lieutenant Edward Ballinger was equally well informed even though unable to obtain sufficient proof to secure a conviction. So he had been puzzled when it had become obvious that the two men intended to let the woman go in alone. Listening to the disturbance which had caused them to follow her so hurriedly, he had decided it might be possible for him to eavesdrop without too great a risk of being discovered.

Moving as silently as the wearing of a pair of moccasins allowed, Cavallier had reached the window through which Belle Boyd had conducted her not entirely satisfactory examination of the barroom. His own scrutiny had been far more fruitful and, apart from one aspect, informative. What was more, as the door was still open, he was able to listen to the conversation taking place inside. Almost the first words he heard had warned him that the situation was grave. The rest had suggested there were facets which he had not envisaged and they added to the danger.

From what 'Father Matthew Devlin' had told le Loup-Garou before he and his two companions had set off with Raoul Fourmies on the ill-fated visit to the Streeterville Munic.i.p.al Hospital, he found Ballinger's use of Marcel Tinville's name the source of speculation. According to the bogus priest, the detective had been supplied with only vague details about the missing actor's appearance. The fact that Ballinger had been able to identify him, even though he had shaved off his beard and moustache, suggested the possession of more information than had been obtained at O'Malley's Grand Emerald Isle Theatre. Unless it had been given by Papa Champlain, the woman - whose face Cavallier had still not been permitted to see - was the most likely candidate to have supplied it prior to their arrival at the Bistro.

Hearing the man he had a.s.sumed to be a detective of the Chicago Police Department claim to be a member of the Canadian Northwest Mounted Police had been alarming to Cavallier. He was aware of how efficient the newly formed force had already become,1 so it was disconcerting in the extreme to learn that one of its inspectors was in the city.

The discovery set thoughts racing through le Loup-Garou's head. Foremost was that he had never heard of an Inspector Macdonald and he had taken care to learn all he could about the composition and strength of the 'Mounties'. Next had come the realisation that, no matter whether the man was genuine, or in Chicago on some other business, Tinville must not be permitted to fall into his hands. The comment begun by the actor had been a reminder that he knew far too much about Cavallier's affairs to be allowed to speak of it in either 'Macdonald's' or Ballinger's presence.

Even as le Loup-Garou was reaching this conclusion and wondering how to avert the danger, Claude Champlain provided his diversion. Seeing Tinville starting to run towards the door, Cavallier sprang in the same direction. Although he had the Colt Civilian Model Peacemaker tucked into his trouser waistband, access to it was impeded by his vest and jacket being b.u.t.toned over it. However, he was carrying another weapon far more to his liking and readily available. Reaching over, his right hand slid the J. Russell & Co. 'Green River' knife from the sheath strapped to his left wrist. It was in his grasp by the time he had reached a position from which he could make the best use of it.

Ignoring the threat of the Webley revolvers being aimed at him by Captain Patrick Reeder and Lieutenant Ballinger, Claude took just as little notice of his father's furious bellow for him to stop. Much to his surprise as he continued to charge at Belle Boyd, although her previous behaviour ought to have warned him against expecting otherwise, she showed no alarm. Unlike the previous victims of his wrathful attentions, she neither cowered nor tried to run away in the face of his fury. Instead, she sprang to meet him. The sight had an adverse effect upon his judgement.

Although Claude's left hand was inoperative, his right was thrusting out with the intention of grasping and crus.h.i.+ng a breast in the way he had found to be most effective on other occasions when dealing with members of the opposite s.e.x. Under the circ.u.mstances he decided that he would be better advised to concentrate upon catching hold of his proposed victim's right arm. It was rising rapidly and he had all too painful memories of what had happened the last time she struck at him with the end of the, as he a.s.sumed, broken parasol. It was, however, too late for him to change his tactics.

While the Rebel Spy's reach was less than her a.s.sailant's, the length of the billy nullified his advantage. Nor had she any qualms about using it. Ballinger's comment about Claude having met a girl he could not 'lick' had warned her that mistreating members of her s.e.x was a far from rare occurrence where he was concerned. For all that, being cognisant of how lethal the device could be, she had no wish to cause the lieutenant further difficulties or embarra.s.sment. With the latter consideration in mind, she directed the steel ball against the top of Claude's head at something less than the full force she was capable of producing.

In spite of Belle's consideration, the blow she struck was sufficient for her purpose. Bright lights seemed to start bursting inside Claude's skull as the unyielding steel ball made its impact. Then everything went black and, with his outstretched hand sc.r.a.ping down the front of her jacket as it fell limply to his side, he collapsed like a steer struck with a hide and tallow man's pole-axe.2 'Oh jolly well played, dear girl!' the Remittance Kid enthused, momentarily losing his Scottish accent and not entirely surprised by what had happened. Then, remembering the character he had adopted, he went on, 'That was a braw blow y - !'

'Catch Tinville,' Belle yelled, any gratification she might have felt at the praise being forgotten as she saw that the actor was in full flight and appeared to have a clear avenue of escape.

Swinging around, the Englishman and Ballinger were about to give chase when they saw a figure appear at the doorway. Tinville was between them and the newcomer, preventing them from being able to make out more than that somebody was on the sidewalk. However, the actor was at no such disadvantage. Recognising the man who was confronting him and seeing what the other was holding, he tried to come to a halt and scream a request for the weapon not to be used on him.

'Don't - !' was all Tinville managed to utter in French.

'Why not?' countered le Loup-Garou in the same tongue.

Saying the words, Cavallier thrust with the eight inches long, razor sharp, clip-point blade.2 He selected the target he considered to be best suited for his purpose. Aimed with the skill gained by long practice, the knife bit through the inside left leg of the actor's trousers with the intention of entirely severing the great femoral artery. Such a stroke, experience had taught him, would bring death more quickly than if it was delivered to almost any other portion of the human anatomy.

Having been a medical student before becoming an actor and joining the anarchist faction, a scream of agony burst from Tinville as he realised what had happened. Clutching at the blood-spurting wound, he twisted around and stumbled into the path of the approaching men. For once in his life, he was not deliberately obstructing the police. If he had been capable of thought, he would have wanted them to capture or kill his a.s.sailant.

Satisfied that his victim was as good as dead, le Loup-Garou turned and darted across the street. He realised that either Ballinger or the man who claimed to be a 'Mountie' was certain to take up the pursuit. Out of respect of their marksmans.h.i.+p, he went at a swerving sprint and made for the darkness of the nearest alley.

Seeing that Tinville was wounded and from its position, guessing at the seriousness of the injury, the Kid and Ballinger sprang forward even faster. They were just in time to catch him as his legs buckled under him. Lowering him to lay supine on the floor, each knew from the sight of the blood spurting through the gash in his trouser leg that there was little or no hope of him surviving. So they decided to follow the suggestion that they went after his a.s.sailant which Belle was making as she hurried towards them. Straightening up, they crossed to and went out of the door.

'Over there!' the Kid snapped, pointing with his Webley R.I.C. to where le Loup-Garou was already disappearing between two buildings on the other side of the street.

'Stay with Belle, Rem!' Ballinger requested, starting to run forward.

Having confidence in the detective's ability to look after himself, the Kid raised no objections to the proposal. Instead, he turned and strode swiftly into the barroom. One glance told him that Ballinger had been correct in suggesting he should return. Belle was kneeling by the injured actor and, raising his shoulders to rest against her bent right leg, doing what she could to comfort him. Making the most of the opportunity with which they were being presented, Papa Champlain was bending to retrieve the sawed-off shotgun and Andre, an ugly look on his face, was stalking the Rebel Spy.

'I wouldn't advise it, gentlemen,' the Kid warned, remembering to use the Scottish accent. He sounded almost benevolent, but the gesture with his revolver encompa.s.sed both the father and the elder son, bringing their respective movements to an end. Without taking his gaze from them, he went on, 'How is he, la.s.sie?'

Looking up, Belle gave her head a quick negative shake. Returning her gaze to Tinville's pain-distorted and frightened face, she said gently, 'Tell us who did it so we can make him pay for it.'

'L - L - Le Loup-Garou!' the young actor gasped, fighting off the gathering waves of weakness which were a.s.sailing him in his determination to be avenged. 'I - It w - was le Loup-Garou.'

'Who?' Belle asked, speaking French as Tinville had been and feeling sure that she could not have heard correctly.

There was no answer. Although the actor's mouth opened, his eyes glazed and his body went limp in the faint which preceded his death from loss of blood.

'He said something about le Loup-Garou' Belle said, reverting to English as she raised her eyes to look in bewilderment and disbelief at the Kid. 'But he must have been rambling.'

'Not necessarily, old girl,' the Englishman replied in his natural voice, darting a glance to where Papa Champlain - having left the shotgun on the shelf once more - was coming from behind the counter.

'But it means a werewolf' Belle objected. 'You know what that is, don't you?'

'One of those peculiar johnnies who changes into a wolf every time there's a full moon and goes around biting people,' the Kid answered. 'I remember when my aunt, the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Brockley, first told me about them, I asked if the chappie got fleas when it happened.' Seeing the exasperated glare the Rebel Spy directed at him, he became more serious and went back to the Highland accent. 'Le - Loup-Garou means the not a werewolf, la.s.sie. Or it could in this case and, if I'm right, this one isn't in the least supernatural.'

'Do you know the man who killed him?' Belle asked.

'Not know, la.s.sie, have heard of,' the Kid corrected. 'Le Loup-Garou is the nickname of Arnaud Gavallier. He's a Metis and, if rumours are correct, isn't the most pleasant of them in spite of being one of the richest. It's even been hinted that his ambition is to lead an independent nation of Metis, but nothing has ever been proven. Everybody who's taken too close an interest in his affairs so far has met with a fatal accident - or rather what appears to have been one.' 'Then why would - ? ' Belle began.

'I was asking myself the same thing,' the Kid admitted, guessing what the unfinished question was going to be. 'Why would a Metis with dreams of becoming the ruler of a nation of his own people be involved with a bunch of anarchists apparently raising money for the cause of Irish Republicanism.'

'How badly is Claude hurt, Andre?' Papa Champlain asked in his native tongue, drawing the couple's attention to him before they could continue the conversation.

'He's recovering,' the elder brother replied, darting a baleful glare at the cause of his sibling's indisposition.

'It could have been far worse, m'sieur' Belle pointed out, laying Tinville flat on the floor and speaking French with a Louisiana accent. 'I only struck to stun him.'

'Deuced considerate of you, I thought, under the circ.u.mstances,' the Kid went on, showing that he had followed the brief conversation although he spoke in English.

'I have a feeling that neither of you are what you have said you are' Papa commented, walking forward, having noticed that 'Inspector Macdonald' had not taken the precaution of removing the spring-loaded billy which lay alongside the girl's right knee and appeared to change his accent in a puzzling fas.h.i.+on.

'That's more than likely,' Belle replied, picking up the billy and rising. 'What is more, m'sieur, providing you answer a few questions, we may be able to save you from serious trouble with the police.'

'Trouble,' Champlain growled, trying to sound as if the possibility had not occurred to him. 'What kind of trouble could I be in?'

'Just before he died,' Belle answered, with such apparent sincerity she might have been speaking the truth. 'Tinville told us you were holding him against his will and that could be construed as kidnapping.'

'Which is the way Lieutenant Ballinger would construe it,' the Kid supplemented, deducing what the Rebel Spy was hoping to accomplish and demonstrating an equal facility to speak French as he supported her. 'Having a dying confession made in the presence of two official witnesses will give him all the proof he needs to arrest you.'

'I see,' the proprietor said quietly, but he sounded uneasy rather than defiant as he swung his eyes to Belle and went on, 'It seems to me, mademoiselle, that your official standing might be open to question.'

'Do you want to gamble on it?' the Rebel Spy challenged, tapping the billy gently against her right thigh. 'I think that, even if I was what you thought I was. Lieutenant Ballinger and his superiors would rather have a certain case against you than something vague and practically impossible to prove against me.'

'But the lady isn't what she pretended to be,' the Kid elaborated, returning the Webley to its holster on the back of his belt as if satisfied he would have no further need of it. 'Far from it, m'sieur. In fact she has sufficient influence in far higher places than the Chicago Police Department to be able to refute any accusations you might try to make against her.'

'Who are you, mademoiselle?' Champlain asked, staring with something like awe.

'It's better for you that I don't answer that,' Belle stated, in tones which exuded menace. 'Just be content with knowing I can help you - providing you help me, of course.'

'What do you want of me?' Champlain asked sullenly, then glanced to where Andre was helping Claude to rise. 'Take him to his room and make sure he stays there.'

'Yes, Papa,' the elder brother a.s.sented and did as he was told without any protests or further attempts by his sibling to attack the Rebel Spy.

'Start at the beginning,' Belle requested, after the two young men had left the room by a rear door. 'Why did Tinville come to you?'

'He said he'd quarrelled with that crowd of anarchists who were doing the show for the Irish at O'Malley's theatre,' the proprietor obliged, sitting at a table. 'So he wanted to get out of the country. But why he should have come to me -'

'We want facts, not fairy tales!' Belle interrupted coldly. "Your private affairs are of no concern to us, unless you make them so.'

'I meant he was Belgian, not French,' Ghamplain explained, accepting that it was useless to pretend he was merely an honest businessman. 'But he said he'd arranged with two different thieves to have the anarchists robbed of the money they'd already collected for the Irish. Whichever of them did it would meet him here with some of it to buy some further information he'd pretended to have. It was his idea we should rob the one who came.'

'I'm sure it was,' Belle purred, but her manner suggested exactly the opposite. 'What did he tell you about the anarchists' plans?'

'Plans, madam - ?' the proprietor began.

'Don't play the innocent with me!' Belle advised and her manner became charged with menace. 'You knew the people he was trying to desert are working with Phineas Branigan. So you'd want to find out what they were up to in case it might have an adverse effect on you. Tinville was neither loyal nor courageous. He'd tell you all he knew.'

'You'd better co-operate, m'sieur!' the Kid warned.

'Just remember that I have!' Champlain requested, having detected a similar warning in the Englishman's voice. 'According to him, they've been collecting money to buy arms for what they're planning.'

'To send them to Republicans in Ireland,' Belle said, in tones of one being given information which was already in her possession.

'No,' Ghamplain contradicted. 'It sounded so unlikely that I thought he was lying, but he said they have an army of Irishmen waiting for them and are going to invade Canada.' Seeing the disbelieving glances directed at him by the couple, he continued, 'I give you my word of honour that is what he told me. As I said, I didn't believe him at first either. But nothing could shake his story.'

'Where is this army?' the Kid demanded, impressed by the old man's obvious sincerity and unable to conceive why he should have made up such an unlikely story.

'He wasn't sure of the name of the place,' Champlain replied. 'But he said that the priest would be taking their party to what I believe is Stokeley in Montana. Anyway, he said they were going there by train and there's only one railroad into Montana, the spur that runs north from Mulrooney, Kansas.'

'That's true enough,' Belle conceded. 'And Tinville might have been speaking the truth. If so, that could explain why the Metis are working with them. They could have come to some arrangement with the man who killed him.'

'It's possible,' the Kid admitted. 'Arnaud Cavallier - '

'Arnaud Cavallier?' Champlain put in, spitting out the name rather than merely saying it as if hating to have it in his mouth. 'Do you mean le Loup-Garou, m'sieur?'

'That's who I mean,' the Kid confirmed. 'Do you know him?'

'I know the half-breed pig all right!' Champlain snarled, thinking bitterly of a costly project to import Indian and Metis girls as prost.i.tutes he had financed and which was ruined when he refused to cut in Cavallier for fifty per cent of the profits. 'Was that him who killed Le - whatever you called him?'

'It was,' Belle declared, deciding that she might obtain more information if she accepted the actor's identification of his a.s.sailant without waiting for confirmation.

'Are you sure ?' Champlain demanded, frowning in puzzlement.

'I didn't see him,' Belle admitted. 'But that's who Tinville said it was. Why?'

'I hadn't heard he was back in Chicago,' Champlain replied, sounding aggrieved by the omission.