The Castle Of The Shadows Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  NUMBER 1280

  "The man is without a name," said the Commandant. "He is a number. Butonce he was known as Jean Fourneau."

  Virginia breathed again. "And the one who was with him?"

  "The man eaten by the sharks? He was called, in the world, Pierre Duval."

  The girl could hardly restrain a murmur of the infinite relief she felt.But she dared show no emotion. "I suppose you have all sorts andconditions of men here?" she asked.

  "From the highest to the lowest."

  "Then there must be many interesting cases--quite romances. Do tell ussomething about a few of the best."

  "That is difficult. There are many cases which might interest you; butthey would shock you as well."

  "I would trust you to choose. Have you any young men of good family who,perhaps, committed their crimes for love?"

  The Commandant smiled. "We have many such. There is the man who is calledthe New Caledonian Dreyfus--Chatelain--who sold his country to please thewoman he loved. He is at Ducos. But perhaps the most notable example ofthe type you desire is a young scion of French and English aristocracywhom we have here, on the Ile Nou. He is now known as Number 1280; but afew years ago he figured brilliantly in the great world as MaximeDalahaide. You may have heard of him, mademoiselle."

  The words rang strangely in the girl's ears. She "might have heard ofhim"! But her presence of mind had not left her, as a few moments ago shehad feared it might, when it should be needed most.

  She was simply carrying out her part of the programme, and she knew thatRoger and George were watching her from behind half-closed lids. If theycould help her they would; but the time had not come for their help yet.

  "I left America only a year ago," she answered, "and one forgets thingsof this sort when they happen very far away."

  "Naturally. But it was an uncommon case. Maxime Dalahaide was condemnedto death for murdering a beautiful young actress, with whom he was inlove--jealousy alleged as the cause. However, powerful influence savedhim from death and sent him to us. I do not know that he was properlythankful."

  Virginia showed a little decorous interest, such as a stranger mightlegitimately take in the hero of such a tale. "This story ought to make asplendid anecdote for our book," she exclaimed. "Is the man handsome?"

  "You might not think so if you saw him now. The costume of the _forcat_is not becoming. But he is still quite young, between twenty-eight andnine. You can see his portrait if you like, mademoiselle, at the Bureauof Anthropometry, where each convict's photograph is taken, with everypossible view of his face, when he first becomes an inmate of theprison."

  "I would rather see the man himself," answered Virginia. "If you would_only_ let my brother and me have an interview with him; think how itwould help our book! Ah, monsieur, that _would_ be kind. I should neverforget your goodness in giving me such a chance."

  The gallant Commandant hesitated. But--the permit in the possession ofthese three favoured visitors was very explicit. They were to haveprivileges scarcely ever granted before, and he had therefore the best ofexcuses for obliging the beautiful American girl.

  "Do say yes!" persuasively added Virginia.

  "I really think I may conscientiously do so," replied the old Frenchman,delighted to please the most radiant being he had seen for many a longyear. "Number 1280 has acted for some time as secretary in one of thebureaux; but another convict, displaced for Dalahaide because ofcarelessness and inaccuracy, was jealous of the favour shown thearistocrat (ah, I assure you they know all about each other's affairsand circumstances here!), contrived to make a rough knife out of a pieceof flint, and stabbed his rival in the back, narrowly missing the lungs.As it was, the wound was a serious one, and Dalahaide is in the hospital.The would-be murderer is now undergoing punishment in what we call theBlack Cell."

  "The wound was not actually dangerous?" Roger hastened to inquire, seeingthat Virginia's lips were white.

  "He ought not to be dangerously ill," said the Commandant. "He is young,and quite one of our athletes--or was. The life he had led here, thoughnot what he would choose, has not been unhealthful. But the doctor, withwhom I have discussed his case, says that the wish to recover is lacking.The man is hopeless. He would rather die than live; and his physicianthinks it exceedingly likely that he will do so."

  "That is sad," said Sir Roger, his eyes still on Virginia.

  The Commandant shrugged his shoulders. "We are accustomed to sadnesshere," he replied. "But the exile and degradation of Noumea are no doubtharder of endurance to a man like Dalahaide--proud, sensitive, refined,intellectual, accustomed to every luxury. He was like a madman when hefirst came, four or five years ago. Several times he attempted escape andsuicide. Then he became sullenly despairing; but I began to take aninterest in him, believing that he was not at bottom such a desperatecharacter as the surveillants had grown to consider him. I did what Icould to soften his lot, having him introduced to more congenial work inthe bureau; but this was not until he had known three months in the BlackCell. Some men lose their minds in the _Cachot Noir_, though its horrorshave been mitigated of late years. But Dalahaide's brain did not fail;and he has proved a valuable man at secretarial work. Also during theplague, three years ago, he volunteered as a nurse, and was admirable.You shall see him in hospital, since you wish it, and even talk with him;but you must not leave New Caledonia with the impression that allconvicts are like this man. Now we will finish the inspection of theprison here, and then my carriage shall drive us to the hospital, whichis at a little distance."

  How Virginia got through the next half-hour she did not know. If she haddared, she would have begged to go on at once to the hospital; but shedid not dare. It was necessary to submit to the delay of being guidedthrough the prison, to be shown the galleries and the cells, thePretoire, and to hear patiently the explanation of the Bertillon system.At last, however, they were once more in the carriage which had been keptwaiting for them; but even then they must still exercise patience, for aDisciplinary Camp was on the road along which they must pass, and tobetray too much eagerness to reach their journey's end (when avowedlythey had come to New Caledonia for information) would have beendangerous. At the camp they must perforce squander twenty or thirtyminutes, Virginia and George pretending to take notes of what they sawand heard; and then they turned westward. Before them stretched a longavenue of strangely bent and sloping palms. It was the avenue of thehospital.

  They drove down it to a stone archway, glittering white in the sun, andsaw beyond a green and shaded garden, jewelled with gorgeous flowers, andheavy with richly mingling scents.

  "If Dalahaide is no worse to-day, we shall probably find him in thegarden here," said the Commandant. "He must have read at least half adozen times an old copy of Dante which I lent him; the books in theprison library are not much to his taste."

  No one answered, not even Roger. In fact, at the moment Roger was moreanxious, perhaps, than any other member of the party, for he realized theexistence of a certain danger which Virginia and her brother hadapparently lost sight of, although long ago it had been discussed by themall. It had also been provided against; but the suggestion that MaximeDalahaide might be met here in the garden, the thought that at any momentthey might come upon him suddenly and unexpectedly, upset these prudentcalculations.

  As Maxime and Roger had known each other five years ago, it had beendecided that a meeting must be avoided at first, lest in his surprise atseeing a familiar face--like a ghost from another world--the prisonershould cry out, and involuntarily put those who watched upon their guard.The three had planned among themselves, when this day was still in thefuture, that if they should succeed in their first step, and gain accessto Maxime Dalahaide, Roger must keep in the background until his mind hadbeen prepared by Virginia and George Trent for what was to come. Theother two, as strangers to him, could approach the prisoner without risk.But they had expected to see him, if at all, in some room or cell, towhich certain members of the
party might be conducted by request; whilehere, in this vast garden, with its ambushes of trees and shrubs, any oneof the half-hidden gray figures which they could distinguish in the greenshadows might prove to be Dalahaide.

  Roger did not know what to do. He might offer to stop behind and wait inthe carriage outside the garden gates. But if he did this it would seemstrange and even ungracious to the Commandant, who was taking so muchtrouble to entertain them, and to "seem strange" was alone enough toconstitute danger. He compromised, keeping behind with George, whileVirginia walked ahead with the old Frenchman.

  In the midst of the garden stood the quadrangular building of thehospital, the steep roof forming broad verandahs. There were gray figuressitting or lounging there also, but the Commandant said that Number 1280would not be found among these, for he fled as much as might be from thesociety of his fellow-convicts.

  They turned the corner of a shaded path and came out under a green canopymade by four large palms. A man lay underneath, his head pillowed on hisarm, his face upturned--a man in the sordid prison gray. Virginia Beverlygrew giddy, and, brave as she had been so far, for an instant she fearedthat she was going to faint like an ordinary, stay-at-home girl. Shestarted, and caught at the arm of the Commandant, who turned to her inconcerned surprise.

  "One would think you had guessed that this was our man," he said in a lowvoice, for the convict, whose face was ghastly pale in the green dusk,seemed to sleep.

  "I beg your pardon," whispered Virginia. "I stepped on a stone andtwisted my foot. Is this, then, the man we have come to find?"

  How well she knew that it was he! How well she knew, though the terribleyears had changed the brave young face in the portrait almost beyond therecognition of a stranger. All the gay audacity was gone, therefore muchof the individuality which had distinguished it for Virginia. The strong,clear features of the man looked, as he lay there asleep, as if they hadbeen carved from old ivory; the lines were sharpened, there were hollowsin the cheeks and under the black lines of the lashes. Even in sleep thedark brows were drawn together in a slight frown, and the clean-cut lipsdrooped in unutterable melancholy. The figure, lying on its back andextended along the grass, appeared very tall, and lay so still that itmight have been the form of a dead man.

  Roger, without seeing the sleeping face, guessed by the abrupt stop andthe low-spoken words of the two in front that Maxime Dalahaide was found.He drew back slightly, with a meaning glance at George, who steppedforward to join the others.

  Suddenly the black line of lashes trembled; a pair of dark, tragic eyes,more like those of Madeleine Dalahaide than the laughing ones of theportrait, opened and looked straight into Virginia's. For a few secondstheir gaze remained fixed, as if the white vision had been a brokendream; then a deep flush spread over the thin face of the young man, andhe rose to his feet.

  "This lady and her brother have come a long way to see New Caledonia,"said the Commandant kindly. "They wish to talk to you."

  Maxime Dalahaide bowed. Virginia saw that he pressed his lips together,and that the muscles of his face quivered. She guessed how he must sufferat having to gratify--as he supposed--the morbid curiosity of a girl, andit hurt her to think that she must be the one to give him this addedpain.

  She turned to the Commandant, and, with a voice not quite steady, askedif she and her brother might speak to the man alone. She felt that sheshould be less embarrassed in her questions, she said, if no onelistened. With a smile the old Frenchman consented, bowing like acourtier, and joined Roger Broom, who stood at a little distance out ofsight of the convict.

  "I thought there was no use embarrassing the poor fellow with any morestrangers," Roger explained to the Commandant, as they moved further awaydown the path by which they had come. "After all, my place in thisexpedition is only to take a few photographs, wherever they arepermitted"; and he touched the camera, slung over his shoulder, of whichhe had already made ostentatious use on several occasions. "May I have asnapshot of the hospital, with all those chaps on the verandahs? Thanks;we must go a little to the right, then. By Jove! what a lot of grayfigures there are about. How do you make sure they can't escape, if theychoose, out here where they don't seem to be guarded?"

  "It is only 'seem,'" retorted the Commandant, laughing. "All these menare invalids; we make short work of malingerers. Very few could run adozen yards without falling down, and most of them are well contented asthey are. But, if any one should be mad enough to attempt a dash forfreedom, four or five surveillants would be on him before he could counttwenty. They do not make themselves conspicuous here, that is all."

  Sir Roger Broom looked across the eastern wall of the hospital garden,over the green expanse of the great lagoon, and thought much; but he saidnothing. Quietly he prepared to take the suggested photograph, and thehand that held the camera did not shake, though he could guess of what,by this time, George Trent and Virginia were talking with the convictunder the palms.

  When the Commandant had left them alone with him, Maxime Dalahaideremained silent, Virginia's beauty filled him--not with happy worship ofits perfection, but rather with an overwhelming bitterness. He was aThing, of whom this exquisite, fresh young girl wished to ask a fewquestions, so that she might go back to her world, thousands of milesaway, and say, "Only fancy, I talked to one of the convicts--an awfulcreature. He had murdered a woman, but he was quite quiet, and, as mybrother was close beside me, I was not one bit afraid."

  Just because he was a Thing, with no right to pride and self-respect, shecould ask what she pleased, and he would answer her; but she must begin,not he.

  She did begin, yet so differently from the cut-and-dried beginning whichhe had scornfully expected, that a flash of vivid amazement swept thehardness from the exile's face.

  "Be very careful," she said rapidly in English. "Don't speak, don't showanything you may feel. Perhaps we are watched. You are Maxime Dalahaide.We haven't come here for curiosity, as you think, but to save you. Wehave come thousands of miles for that."

  "Why?" It was as if the question fell from his lips without volition. Theman did not believe his own ears. He thought that he must have beenseized with delirium.

  "Because we believe in you and because we are friends of your sister's,"Virginia answered. "A man you once knew is with us--Roger Broom. Do youremember?"

  "Roger Broom!" Maxime repeated dazedly. "It is like an echo from thepast. Yes--yes, I remember."

  "It is through him that we have been able to reach you. He is close by,but dared not let you see him, until you had been warned. Now, we mustarrange everything in a few minutes for your escape; the Commandant hasbeen kind, but he may not give us long together."

  "I think I must be dreaming," stammered Maxime, all his bitternessforgotten. "I've been ill. I don't understand things as quickly as Iused. Escape! You have come here to--help me to escape. Yes, it iscertainly a dream. I shall wake up by and by!"

  "You will wake up free," said Virginia not daring to raise her voiceabove a low monotone. "Free, on our yacht, that has brought us fromFrance to take you home."

  Suddenly a glaze of tears overspread Maxime Dalahaide's dark eyes."Home?" he echoed wistfully. "Home! Ah, if it might be!"

  "It shall be," returned Virginia. "George, tell him our plan. You can doit better than I."

  "The thing is to get you on board the yacht," said Trent. "After that,you're all right. We can show our heels to pretty well anything in theseparts."

  Dalahaide shook his head. "There are no words to thank you for what youhave done, and would do for me," he answered. "But it is impossible. OnceI thought of escape. I tried and failed, as others have tried and failed.After the second time, they put me in the Black Cell, and I saved myselffrom madness by calling to memory all of Shakespeare that I had everlearned. I don't say 'impossible' because I am afraid of that again. Ihave passed beyond fear of anything. What have I left to dread? I knowthe worst; I have lived through the worst that can befall a man. But inthat dreadful blackness, where my very soul seemed
to dissolve in night,I realized that, even if I could escape, how useless freedom would be ifmy innocence were not proved. I could not go to France or England. Ishould live a hunted life. As well be an exile here as nearerhome--better, perhaps, now that the first bitterness has passed."

  "You think this because you've been ill, and your blood runs slow," saidGeorge Trent. "All you need is to be strong again, and----"

  "Strong again!" echoed Maxime, with sorrowful contempt. "I've beenthanking heaven that I hadn't strength enough left to care for anything.It's true, as you say; the oil in my lamp of life burns low, and so muchthe better for me. What I want now is to get it all over as soon as maybe. You are kind--you are so good to me that I am lost in wonder; yeteven you cannot give me a freedom worth having. Take back my love to mysister, but tell her--tell her that I am content to stay as I am."

  "Content to die, you mean!" cried Virginia.

  "Oh, you are ill indeed to feel like this. How can you bear to stay here,when you have a chance to be a free man--even if not a happy man--to stayhere, and let your enemy, who sent you to this place, laugh and think howhis plot against you has succeeded?"

  The dreamy look of weary resignation on Maxime Dalahaide's face changedto alertness. "Why do you speak of an enemy, and a plot against me?" heasked. "That poor girl was murdered; but I have never thought that shewas killed because her murderer wished to involve me. That part was anaccident. Liane Devereux----"

  "Is not dead," broke in Virginia. "She is on our yacht now, in theharbour of Noumea. When you come, and she sees you, she will confess thewhole plot."

  "But I saw her lying dead--a thousand times that sight has been before myeyes."

  "It was not she. If you want to know all, to fathom the whole mystery,and learn how to prove your own innocence, you will not refuse to do whatwe ask."

  Maxime's thin face no longer looked like a carving in old ivory. Thestatue had come to life. The spring of hope had begun to stir in hisveins. "If it were possible to prove it--at this late day!" he exclaimed."But even if it were--you forget the tremendous difficulties in the wayof escape. How could I reach your yacht? It could not come near enough toshore here to pick me up; even a small boat would be seen----"

  "Not at night," said Virginia.

  "Remember, it is moonlight. The night will be like day. Long before asmall boat could reach the yacht from the beach she would be followed,overtaken, and not only should I be brought back, but I should have themisery of knowing that I had been the cause of bringing my brave friendsinto trouble. They would fire upon us. If I were killed it would matterlittle enough; but if you were to be shot----" He spoke to George Trent,but his eyes moved quickly to Virginia's face.

  "My sister would be waiting for us on board the _Bella Cuba_," saidTrent. "Roger Broom and I will take jolly good care of ourselves--and ofyou, too, if you'll only give us a chance."

  "If you'd come here a month ago," sighed the prisoner, "before I got thiswound in my back! Now I'm afraid it's too late. I've let myself go. Ithought I saw the one door of escape for me opening--death; and insteadof turning my back I walked toward it. I've let my strength down. Ihaven't eaten or slept much, and I began to have a pleasant feeling ofslipping easily out with the tide. Now there's an incentive to stop, thetide's too strong and I'm too weak. I can't count on myself."

  "Count on us," said George. "We'll see you through, you bet. And think ofyour sister. We promised we'd take you back with us. We can't go to herwithout you, after raising her hopes. It would kill her." Trent glancedat Virginia, as if expecting her to add encouraging arguments to his; butshe was silent, her eyes alone appealing to Dalahaide. George Trent washer half-brother, and had known her all her life, but he felt the thrillof that look in the girl's beautiful eyes. How much more, then, mustMaxime Dalahaide have felt it, he said to himself.

  "It is the risk for you I think of--if I fail," the prisoner exclaimed."If I had only myself to consider I should hesitate no longer."

  "We have come a long, long way to you," Virginia's eyes said; and herlips would have added something had not George's hand fallen suddenly inwarning on her shoulder. "Somebody is coming," he whispered. "For all oursakes, don't fail us, Dalahaide. We shall look for you to-night--there,"and he nodded toward the water. "Make your way to the beach and hideamong the rocks till you see our little boat. Don't take to thewater--remember the sharks. If you're not there to-night, we'll hangabout till the next."

  "We'll wait till you come, if we wait a year," said Virginia.

  There was time for no more. The Commandant, with Roger Broom by his side,appeared round the corner of the winding path near by.

  "Well, mademoiselle, have we given you time to finish your interview,and has it been satisfactory?" asked the old Frenchman good-naturedly.

  "You have given us just enough time, and it has been most satisfactory,thank you," the girl answered. "I hope," she added, "to make the verybest use of it later." And again her eyes met those of the statue thatshe had waked to life.