20
Jane Clayton Again a Prisoner
Though her clothes were torn and her hair disheveled, Albert Werper
realized that he never before had looked upon such a vision of
loveliness as that which Lady Greystoke presented in the relief
and joy which she felt in coming so unexpectedly upon a friend and
rescuer when hope had seemed so far away.
If the Belgian had entertained any doubts as to the woman's knowledge
of his part in the perfidious attack upon her home and herself, it
was quickly dissipated by the genuine friendliness of her greeting.
She told him quickly of all that had befallen her since he had
departed from her home, and as she spoke of the death of her husband
her eyes were veiled by the tears which she could not repress.
"I am shocked," said Werper, in well-simulated sympathy; "but I am
not surprised. That devil there," and he pointed toward the body
of Achmet Zek, "has terrorized the entire country. Your Waziri
are either exterminated, or have been driven out of their country,
far to the south. The men of Achmet Zek occupy the plain about
your former home--there is neither sanctuary nor escape in that
direction. Our only hope lies in traveling northward as rapidly as
we may, of coming to the camp of the raiders before the knowledge
of Achmet Zek's death reaches those who were left there, and of
obtaining, through some ruse, an escort toward the north.
"I think that the thing can be accomplished, for I was a guest of
the raider's before I knew the nature of the man, and those at the
camp are not aware that I turned against him when I discovered his
villainy.
"Come! We will make all possible haste to reach the camp before
those who accompanied Achmet Zek upon his last raid have found
his body and carried the news of his death to the cut-throats who
remained behind. It is our only hope, Lady Greystoke, and you
must place your entire faith in me if I am to succeed. Wait for
me here a moment while I take from the Arab's body the wallet that
he stole from me," and Werper stepped quickly to the dead man's
side, and, kneeling, sought with quick fingers the pouch of jewels.
To his consternation, there was no sign of them in the garments
of Achmet Zek. Rising, he walked back along the trail, searching
for some trace of the missing pouch or its contents; but he found
nothing, even though he searched carefully the vicinity of his
dead horse, and for a few paces into the jungle on either side.
Puzzled, disappointed and angry, he at last returned to the girl.
"The wallet is gone," he explained, crisply, "and I dare not delay
longer in search of it. We must reach the camp before the returning
raiders."
Unsuspicious of the man's true character, Jane Clayton saw nothing
peculiar in his plans, or in his specious explanation of his former
friendship for the raider, and so she grasped with alacrity the
seeming hope for safety which he proffered her, and turning about
she set out with Albert Werper toward the hostile camp in which
she so lately had been a prisoner.
It was late in the afternoon of the second day before they reached
their destination, and as they paused upon the edge of the clearing
before the gates of the walled village, Werper cautioned the girl
to accede to whatever he might suggest by his conversation with
the raiders.
"I shall tell them," he said, "that I apprehended you after you
escaped from the camp, that I took you to Achmet Zek, and that as
he was engaged in a stubborn battle with the Waziri, he directed
me to return to camp with you, to obtain here a sufficient guard,
and to ride north with you as rapidly as possible and dispose of
you at the most advantageous terms to a certain slave broker whose
name he gave me."
Again the girl was deceived by the apparent frankness of the Belgian.
She realized that desperate situations required desperate handling,
and though she trembled inwardly at the thought of again entering
the vile and hideous village of the raiders she saw no better course
than that which her companion had suggested.
Calling aloud to those who tended the gates, Werper, grasping Jane
Clayton by the arm, walked boldly across the clearing. Those who
opened the gates to him permitted their surprise to show clearly
in their expressions. That the discredited and hunted lieutenant
should be thus returning fearlessly of his own volition, seemed to
disarm them quite as effectually as his manner toward Lady Greystoke
had deceived her.
The sentries at the gate returned Werper's salutations, and viewed
with astonishment the prisoner whom he brought into the village
with him.
Immediately the Belgian sought the Arab who had been left in charge
of the camp during Achmet Zek's absence, and again his boldness
disarmed suspicion and won the acceptance of his false explanation
of his return. The fact that he had brought back with him the
woman prisoner who had escaped, added strength to his claims, and
Mohammed Beyd soon found himself fraternizing good-naturedly with
the very man whom he would have slain without compunction had he
discovered him alone in the jungle a half hour before.
Jane Clayton was again confined to the prison hut she had formerly
occupied, but as she realized that this was but a part of the
deception which she and Frecoult were playing upon the credulous
raiders, it was with quite a different sensation that she again
entered the vile and filthy interior, from that which she had
previously experienced, when hope was so far away.
Once more she was bound and sentries placed before the door of
her prison; but before Werper left her he whispered words of cheer
into her ear. Then he left, and made his way back to the tent of
Mohammed Beyd. He had been wondering how long it would be before
the raiders who had ridden out with Achmet Zek would return with
the murdered body of their chief, and the more he thought upon the
matter the greater his fears became, that without accomplices his
plan would fail.
What, even, if he got away from the camp in safety before any
returned with the true story of his guilt--of what value would
this advantage be other than to protract for a few days his mental
torture and his life? These hard riders, familiar with every trail
and bypath, would get him long before he could hope to reach the
coast.
As these thoughts passed through his mind he entered the tent where
Mohammed Beyd sat cross-legged upon a rug, smoking. The Arab looked
up as the European came into his presence.
"Greetings, O Brother!" he said.
"Greetings!" replied Werper.
For a while neither spoke further. The Arab was the first to break
the silence.
"And my master, Achmet Zek, was well when last you saw him?" he
asked.
"Never was he safer from the sins and dangers of mortality," replied
the Belgian.
"It is well," said Mohammed Beyd, blowing a little puff of blue
smoke straight out before him.
Again there was silence for several minutes.
"And if he were dead?" asked the Belgian, determined to lead up to
the truth, and attempt to bribe Mohammed Beyd into his service.
The Arab's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, his gaze boring
straight into the eyes of the Belgian.
"I have been thinking much, Werper, since you returned so
unexpectedly to the camp of the man whom you had deceived, and who
sought you with death in his heart. I have been with Achmet Zek
for many years--his own mother never knew him so well as I. He
never forgives--much less would he again trust a man who had once
betrayed him; that I know.
"I have thought much, as I said, and the result of my thinking has
assured me that Achmet Zek is dead--for otherwise you would never
have dared return to his camp, unless you be either a braver man
or a bigger fool than I have imagined. And, if this evidence of
my judgment is not sufficient, I have but just now received from
your own lips even more confirmatory witness--for did you not say
that Achmet Zek was never more safe from the sins and dangers of
mortality?
"Achmet Zek is dead--you need not deny it. I was not his mother,
or his mistress, so do not fear that my wailings shall disturb
you. Tell me why you have come back here. Tell me what you want,
and, Werper, if you still possess the jewels of which Achmet Zek
told me, there is no reason why you and I should not ride north
together and divide the ransom of the white woman and the contents
of the pouch you wear about your person. Eh?"
The evil eyes narrowed, a vicious, thin-lipped smile tortured the
villainous face, as Mohammed Beyd grinned knowingly into the face
of the Belgian.
Werper was both relieved and disturbed by the Arab's attitude. The
complacency with which he accepted the death of his chief lifted
a considerable burden of apprehension from the shoulders of Achmet
Zek's assassin; but his demand for a share of the jewels boded ill
for Werper when Mohammed Beyd should have learned that the precious
stones were no longer in the Belgian's possession.
To acknowledge that he had lost the jewels might be to arouse the
wrath or suspicion of the Arab to such an extent as would jeopardize
his new-found chances of escape. His one hope seemed, then, to lie
in fostering Mohammed Beyd's belief that the jewels were still in
his possession, and depend upon the accidents of the future to open
an avenue of escape.
Could he contrive to tent with the Arab upon the march north, he
might find opportunity in plenty to remove this menace to his life
and liberty--it was worth trying, and, further, there seemed no
other way out of his difficulty.
"Yes," he said, "Achmet Zek is dead. He fell in battle with
a company of Abyssinian cavalry that held me captive. During the
fighting I escaped; but I doubt if any of Achmet Zek's men live,
and the gold they sought is in the possession of the Abyssinians.
Even now they are doubtless marching on this camp, for they were
sent by Menelek to punish Achmet Zek and his followers for a raid
upon an Abyssinian village. There are many of them, and if we do
not make haste to escape we shall all suffer the same fate as Achmet
Zek."
Mohammed Beyd listened in silence. How much of the unbeliever's
story he might safely believe he did not know; but as it afforded
him an excuse for deserting the village and making for the north
he was not inclined to cross-question the Belgian too minutely.
"And if I ride north with you," he asked, "half the jewels and half
the ransom of the woman shall be mine?"
"Yes," replied Werper.
"Good," said Mohammed Beyd. "I go now to give the order for the
breaking of camp early on the morrow," and he rose to leave the
tent.
Werper laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"Wait," he said, "let us determine how many shall accompany us.
It is not well that we be burdened by the women and children, for
then indeed we might be overtaken by the Abyssinians. It would be
far better to select a small guard of your bravest men, and leave
word behind that we are riding WEST. Then, when the Abyssinians
come they will be put upon the wrong trail should they have it in
their hearts to pursue us, and if they do not they will at least
ride north with less rapidity than as though they thought that we
were ahead of them."
"The serpent is less wise than thou, Werper," said Mohammed Beyd
with a smile. "It shall be done as you say. Twenty men shall
accompany us, and we shall ride WEST--when we leave the village."
"Good," cried the Belgian, and so it was arranged.
Early the next morning Jane Clayton, after an almost sleepless
night, was aroused by the sound of voices outside her prison, and
a moment later, M. Frecoult, and two Arabs entered. The latter
unbound her ankles and lifted her to her feet. Then her wrists
were loosed, she was given a handful of dry bread, and led out into
the faint light of dawn.
She looked questioningly at Frecoult, and at a moment that the
Arab's attention was attracted in another direction the man leaned
toward her and whispered that all was working out as he had planned.
Thus assured, the young woman felt a renewal of the hope which the
long and miserable night of bondage had almost expunged.
Shortly after, she was lifted to the back of a horse, and surrounded
by Arabs, was escorted through the gateway of the village and off
into the jungle toward the west. Half an hour later the party
turned north, and northerly was their direction for the balance of
the march.
M. Frecoult spoke with her but seldom, and she understood that in
carrying out his deception he must maintain the semblance of her
captor, rather than protector, and so she suspected nothing though
she saw the friendly relations which seemed to exist between the
European and the Arab leader of the band.
If Werper succeeded in keeping himself from conversation with the
young woman, he failed signally to expel her from his thoughts. A
hundred times a day he found his eyes wandering in her direction
and feasting themselves upon her charms of face and figure. Each
hour his infatuation for her grew, until his desire to possess her
gained almost the proportions of madness.
If either the girl or Mohammed Beyd could have guessed what passed
in the mind of the man which each thought a friend and ally,
the apparent harmony of the little company would have been rudely
disturbed.
Werper had not succeeded in arranging to tent with Mohammed Beyd,
and so he revolved many plans for the assassination of the Arab
that would have been greatly simplified had he been permitted to
share the other's nightly shelter.
Upon the second day out Mohammed Beyd reined his horse to the side
of the animal on which the captive was mounted. It was, apparently,
the first notice which the Arab had taken of the girl; but many
times during these two days had his cunning eyes peered greedily
from beneath the hood of his burnoose to gloat upon the beauties
of the prisoner.
Nor was this hidden infatuation of any recent origin. He had
conceived it when first the wife of the Englishman had fallen into
the hands of Achmet Zek; but while that austere chieftain lived,
Mohammed Beyd had not even dared hope for a realization of his
imaginings.
Now, though, it was different--only a despised dog of a Christian
stood between himself and possession of the girl. How easy it would
be to slay the unbeliever, and take unto himself both the woman and
the jewels! With the latter in his possession, the ransom which
might be obtained for the captive would form no great inducement to
her relinquishment in the face of the pleasures of sole ownership
of her. Yes, he would kill Werper, retain all the jewels and keep
the Englishwoman.
He turned his eyes upon her as she rode along at his side. How
beautiful she was! His fingers opened and closed--skinny, brown
talons itching to feel the soft flesh of the victim in their
remorseless clutch.
"Do you know," he asked leaning toward her, "where this man would
take you?"
Jane Clayton nodded affirmatively.
"And you are willing to become the plaything of a black sultan?"
The girl drew herself up to her full height, and turned her head
away; but she did not reply. She feared lest her knowledge of the
ruse that M. Frecoult was playing upon the Arab might cause her
to betray herself through an insufficient display of terror and
aversion.
"You can escape this fate," continued the Arab; "Mohammed Beyd will
save you," and he reached out a brown hand and seized the fingers
of her right hand in a grasp so sudden and so fierce that this brutal
passion was revealed as clearly in the act as though his lips had
confessed it in words. Jane Clayton wrenched herself from his grasp.
"You beast!" she cried. "Leave me or I shall call M. Frecoult."
Mohammed Beyd drew back with a scowl. His thin, upper lip curled
upward, revealing his smooth, white teeth.
"M. Frecoult?" he jeered. "There is no such person. The man's
name is Werper. He is a liar, a thief, and a murderer. He killed
his captain in the Congo country and fled to the protection of Achmet
Zek. He led Achmet Zek to the plunder of your home. He followed
your husband, and planned to steal his gold from him. He has told
me that you think him your protector, and he has played upon this
to win your confidence that it might be easier to carry you north
and sell you into some black sultan's harem. Mohammed Beyd is your
only hope," and with this assertion to provide the captive with
food for thought, the Arab spurred forward toward the head of the
column.
Jane Clayton could not know how much of Mohammed Beyd's indictment
might be true, or how much false; but at least it had the effect
of dampening her hopes and causing her to review with suspicion
every past act of the man upon whom she had been looking as her
sole protector in the midst of a world of enemies and dangers.
On the march a separate tent had been provided for the captive, and
at night it was pitched between those of Mohammed Beyd and Werper.
A sentry was posted at the front and another at the back, and with
these precautions it had not been thought necessary to confine
the prisoner to bonds. The evening following her interview with
Mohammed Beyd, Jane Clayton sat for some time at the opening of
her tent watching the rough activities of the camp. She had eaten
the meal that had been brought her by Mohammed Beyd's Negro slave--a
meal of cassava cakes and a nondescript stew in which a new-killed
monkey, a couple of squirrels and the remains of a zebra, slain
the previous day, were impartially and unsavorily combined; but
the one-time Baltimore belle had long since submerged in the stern
battle for existence, an estheticism which formerly revolted at
much slighter provocation.
As the girl's eyes wandered across the trampled jungle clearing,
already squalid from the presence of man, she no longer apprehended
either the nearer objects of the foreground, the uncouth men
laughing or quarreling among themselves, or the jungle beyond, which
circumscribed the extreme range of her material vision. Her gaze
passed through all these, unseeing, to center itself upon a distant
bungalow and scenes of happy security which brought to her eyes
tears of mingled joy and sorrow. She saw a tall, broad-shouldered
man riding in from distant fields; she saw herself waiting to
greet him with an armful of fresh-cut roses from the bushes which
flanked the little rustic gate before her. All this was gone,
vanished into the past, wiped out by the torches and bullets and
hatred of these hideous and degenerate men. With a stifled sob,
and a little shudder, Jane Clayton turned back into her tent and
sought the pile of unclean blankets which were her bed. Throwing
herself face downward upon them she sobbed forth her misery until
kindly sleep brought her, at least temporary, relief.
And while she slept a figure stole from the tent that stood to the
right of hers. It approached the sentry before the doorway and
whispered a few words in the man's ear. The latter nodded, and
strode off through the darkness in the direction of his own blankets.
The figure passed to the rear of Jane Clayton's tent and spoke
again to the sentry there, and this man also left, following in
the trail of the first.
Then he who had sent them away stole silently to the tent flap
and untying the fastenings entered with the noiselessness of a
disembodied spirit.
