The Maids of Paradise Part 46

"I want to ask this," I continued: "are you a poacher from necessity, or from that pure love of the chase which is born in even worse men than you and I?"

"I poach because I love it. There are no poachers from necessity; there is always the sea, which furnishes work for all who care to steer a sloop, or draw a seine, or wield a sea-rake. I am a pilot."

"But the war?"

"At least the war could not keep me from the sardine grounds."

"So you poach from choice?"

"Yes. It is in me. I am sorry, but what shall I do? _It's in me_."

"And you can't resist?"

He laughed grimly. "Go and call in the hounds from the stag's throat!"

Presently I said:

"You have been in jail?"

"Yes," he replied, indifferently.

"For poaching?"

"Eur e'harvik rous," he said in Breton, and I could not make out whether he meant that he had been in jail for the sake of a woman or of a "little red doe." The Breton language bristles with double meanings, symbols, and allegories. The word for doe in Breton is _karvez_; or for a doe which never had a fawn, it is _heiez_; for a fawn the word is _karvik_.

I mentioned these facts to him, but he only looked dangerous and remained silent.

"Lizard," I said, "give me your confidence as I give you mine. I will tell you now that I was once in the police--"

He started.

"And that I expect to enter that corps again. And I want your aid."

"My aid? For the police?" His laugh was simply horrible. "I? The Lizard? Continue, m'sieu."

"I will tell you why. Yesterday, on a visit to Point Paradise, I saw a man lying belly down in the bracken; but I didn't let him know I saw him. I have served in the police; I think I recognize that man. He is known in Belleville as Tric-Trac. He came here, I believe, to see a man called Buckhurst. Can you find this Tric-Trac for me? Do you, perhaps, know him?"

"Yes," said the Lizard, "I knew him in prison."

"You have seen him here?"

"Yes, but I will not betray him."

"Why?"

"Because he is a poor, hunted devil of a poacher like me!" cried the Lizard, angrily. "He must live; there's enough land in Finistere for us both."

"How long has he been here in Paradise?"

"For two months."

"And he told you he lived by poaching?"

"Yes."

"He lies."

The Lizard looked at me intently.

"He has played you; he is a thief, and he has come here to rob. He is a filou--a town rat. Can he bend a hedge-snare? Can he line a string of dead-falls? Can he even snare enough game to keep himself from starving? He a woodsman? _He_ a poacher of the bracken? You are simple, my friend."

The veins in the poacher's neck began to swell and a dull color flooded his face.

"Prove that he has played me," he said.

"Prove it yourself."

"How?"

"By watching him. He came here to meet a man named Buckhurst."

"I have seen that man Buckhurst, too. What is he doing here?" asked the Lizard.

"That is what I want you to find out and help me to find out!" I said. "Voila! Now you know what I want of you."

The sombre visage of the poacher twitched.

"I take it," said I, "that you would not make a comrade of a petty pickpocket."

The poacher uttered an oath and shook his fist at me. "Bon sang!" he snarled, "I am an honest man if I am a poacher!"

"That's the reason I trusted you," said I, good-humoredly. "Take your fists down, my friend, and think out a plan which will permit me to observe this Monsieur Tric-Trac at my leisure, without I myself being observed."

"That is easy," he said. "I take him food to-day."

"Then I was right," said I, laughing. "He is a Belleville rat, who cannot feed himself where there are no pockets to pick. Does he know a languste from a linnet? Not he, my friend!"

The Lizard sat still, head bent, knees drawn up, apparently buried in thought. There is no injury one can do a Breton of his cla.s.s like the injury of deceiving and mocking.

If Tric-Trac, a man of the city, had come here to profit by the ignorance of a Breton--and perhaps laugh at his stupidity!

But I let the ferment work in the dark blood of the Lizard, leaving him to his own sombre logic, undisturbed.

Presently the Lizard raised his head and fixed his bright, intelligent eyes on me.

"M'sieu," he said, in a curiously gentle voice, "we men of Paradise are called out for the army. I must go, or go to jail. How can I remain here and help you trap these filous?"

"I have telegraphed to General Chanzy," I said, frankly. "If he accepts--or if General Aurelles de Palladine is favorable--I shall make you exempt under authority from Tours. I mean to keep you in my service, anyway," I added.