XXIV
Rendezvous
With as little ceremony as though the bullet had lodged in himself, Lanyard tumbled back into the room, tripped, and fell sprawling; while to a tune of clattering boots two sergents de ville lumbered valiantly into the library and pulled up to discover Madame Omber standing calmly, safe and sound, beside her desk, and Lanyard picking himself up from the floor by the open window.
Behind them Sidonie trotted, wringing her hands.
тАЬMadame!тАЭ she bleatedтБатАФтАЬthey wouldnтАЩt listen to me, madameтБатАФI couldnтАЩt stop them!тАЭ
тАЬAll right, Sidonie. Go back to the hall. IтАЩll call you when needed.тБатАКтБатАж Messieurs, good morning!тАЭ
One of the sergents advanced with an uncertain salute and a superfluous question: тАЬMadame OmberтБатАФ?тАЭ The other waited on the threshold, barring the way.
Lanyard measured the two speculatively: the spokesman seemed a bit old and fat, ripe for his pension, little apt to prove seriously effective in a rough-and-tumble; but the other was young, sturdy, and broad-chested, with the poise of an athlete, and carried in addition to his sword a pistol naked in his hand, while his clear blue eyes, meeting the adventurerтАЩs, lighted up with a glint of invitation.
For the present, however, Lanyard wasnтАЩt taking any. He met that challenge with a look of utter stupidity, folded his arms, lounged against the desk, and watched Madame Omber acknowledge, none too cordially, the other sergentтАЩs query.
тАЬI am Madame OmberтБатАФyes. What can I do for you?тАЭ
The sergent gaped. тАЬPardon!тАЭ he stammered, then laughed as one who tardily appreciates a joke. тАЬIt is well we are arrived in time, madame,тАЭ he addedтБатАФтАЬthough it would seem you have not had great trouble with this miscreant. Where is the woman?тАЭ
He moved a pace toward Lanyard: handcuffs jingled in his grasp.
тАЬBut a moment!тАЭ madame interposed. тАЬWoman? What woman?тАЭ
Pausing, the older sergent explained in a tone of surprise:
тАЬBut his accomplice, naturally! Such were our instructionsтБатАФto proceed at once to madameтАЩs h├┤tel, come in quietly by the servantsтАЩ entranceтБатАФwhich would be openтБатАФand arrest a burglar with his female accomplice.тАЭ
Again the stout sergent moved toward Lanyard; again Madame Omber stopped him.
тАЬBut one moment more, if you please!тАЭ
Her eyes, dense with suspicion, questioned Lanyard; who, with a significant nod toward the jewel-case still in her hands, gave her a glance of dumb entreaty.
After brief hesitation, тАЬIt is a mistake,тАЭ madame declared; тАЬthere is no woman in this house, to my certain knowledge, who has no right to be hereтБатАКтБатАж But you say you received a message? I sent none!тАЭ
The fat sergent shrugged. тАЬThat is not for me to dispute, madame. I have only my orders to go by.тАЭ
He glared sullenly at Lanyard; who returned a placid smile that (despite such hope as he might derive from madameтАЩs irresolute manner) masked a vast amount of trepidation. He felt tolerably sure Madame Omber had not sent for police on prior knowledge of his presence in the library. All this, then, would seem to indicate a new form of attack on the part of the Pack. He had probably been followed and seen to enter; or else the girl had been caught attempting to steal away and the information wrung from her by force majeure.тБатАКтБатАж Moreover, he could hear two more pair of feet tramping through the salons.
Pending the arrival of these last, Madame Omber said nothing more.
And, unceremoniously enough, the newcomers shouldered into the libraryтБатАФone pompous uniformed body, of otherwise undistinguished appearance, promptly identified by the sergents de ville as monsieur le commissaire of that quarter; the other, a puffy mediocrity, known to Lanyard at least (if apparently to no one else) as Popinot.
At this confirmation of his darkest fears, the adventurer abandoned hope of aid from Madame Omber and began quietly to reckon his chances of escape through his own efforts.
But he was quite unarmed, and the odds were heavy: four against one, all four no doubt under arms, and two at leastтБатАФthe sergentsтБатАФmen of sound military training.
тАЬMadame Omber?тАЭ enquired the commissaire, saluting that lady with immense dignity. тАЬOne trusts that this intrusion may be pardoned, the circumstances remembered. In an affair of this nature, involving this repository of so historic treasuresтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬThat is quite well understood, monsieur le commissaire,тАЭ madame replied distantly. тАЬAnd this monsieur is, no doubt, your aide?тАЭ
тАЬPardon!тАЭ the official hastened to identify his companion: тАЬMonsieur Popinot, agent de la S├╗ret├й, who lays these informations!тАЭ
With a profound obeisance to Madame Omber, Popinot strode dramatically over to confront Lanyard and explore his features with his small, keen, shifty eyes of a pig; a scrutiny which the adventurer suffered with superficial calm.
тАЬIt is he!тАЭ Popinot announced with a gesture. тАЬMessieurs, I call upon you to arrest this man, Michael Lanyard, alias тАШThe Lone Wolf.тАЩтАКтАЭ
He stepped back a pace, expanding his chest in vain effort to eclipse his abdomen, and glanced triumphantly at his respectful audience.
тАЬAccused,тАЭ he added with intense relish, тАЬof the murder of Inspector Roddy of Scotland Yard at TroyonтАЩs, as well as of setting fire to that establishmentтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬFor this, Popinot,тАЭ Lanyard interrupted in an undertone, тАЬI shall some day cut off your ears!тАЭ He turned to Madame Omber: тАЬAccept, if you please, madame, my sincere regretsтБатАКтБатАж but this charge happens to be one of which I am altogether innocent.тАЭ
Instantly, from lounging against the desk, Lanyard straightened up: and the heavy humidor of brass and mahogany, on which his right hand had been resting, seemed fairly to leap from its place as, with a sweep of his arm, he sent it spinning point-blank at the younger sergent.
Before that one, wholly unprepared, could more than gasp, the humidor caught him a blow like a kick just below the breastbone. He reeled, the breath left him in one great gust, he sat down abruptlyтБатАФblue eyes wide with a look of aggrieved surpriseтБатАФclapped both hands to his middle, blinked, turned pale, and keeled over on his side.
But Lanyard hadnтАЩt waited to note results. He was busy. The fat sergent had leaped snarling upon his arm, and was struggling to hold it still long enough to snap a handcuff round the wrist; while the commissaire had started forward with a bellow of rage and two hands extended and itching for the adventurerтАЩs throat.
The first received a half-arm jab on the point of his chin that jarred his entire system, and without in the least understanding how it happened, found himself whirled around and laid prostrate in the commissaireтАЩs path. The latter tripped, fell, and planted two hard knees, with the bulk of his weight atop them, on the apex of the sergentтАЩs paunch.
At the same time Lanyard, leaping toward the doorway, noticed Popinot tugging at something in his hip-pocket.
Followed a vivid flash, then complete darkness: with a well-aimed kickтБатАФan elementary movement of la savateтБатАФLanyard had dislocated the switch of the electric lights, knocking its porcelain box from the wall, breaking the connection, and creating a short-circuit which extinguished every light in that part of the house.
With his way thus apparently cleared, the police in confusion, darkness aiding him, Lanyard plunged on; but in mid-stride, as he crossed the threshold, his ankle was caught by the still prostrate younger sergent and jerked from under him.
His momentum threw him with a crashтБатАФand may have spared him a worse mishap; for in the same breath he heard the report of a pistol and knew that Popinot had fired at his fugitive shadow.
As he brought one heel down with crushing force on the sergentтАЩs wrist, freeing his foot, he was dimly conscious of the voice of the commissaire shouting frantic prayers to cease firing. Then the pain-maddened sergent crawled to his knees, lunged blindly forward, knocked the adventurer back in the act of rising, and fell on top of him.
Hampered by two hundred pounds of fighting Frenchman, Lanyard felt his cause was lost, yet battled onтБатАФand would while breath was in him.
With a heave, a twist and a squirm, he slipped from under, and swinging a fist at random barked his knuckles against the mouth of the sergent. Momentarily that one relaxed his hold, and Lanyard struggled to his knees, only to go down as the indomitable Frenchman grappled yet a second time.
Now, however, as they fell, Lanyard was on top: and shifting both hands to his antagonistтАЩs left forearm, he wrenched it up and around. There was a cry of pain, and he jumped clear of one no longer to be reckoned with.
Nevertheless, as he had feared, the delay had proved ruinous. He had only found his feet when an unidentified person hurled himself bodily through the gloom and wrapped his arms round LanyardтАЩs thighs. And as both went down, two others piled up on top.тБатАКтБатАж
For the next minute or two, Lanyard fought blindly, madly, viciously, striking and kicking at random. For all thatтБатАФeven with one sergent hors de combatтБатАФthey were three to one; and though with the ferocity of sheer desperation he shook them all off, at one time, and gained a few yards more, it was only again to be overcome and borne down, crushed beneath the weight of three.
His wind was going, his strength was leaving him. He mustered up every ounce of energy, all his wit and courage, for one last effort: fought like a cat, tooth and nail; toiled once more to his knees, with two clinging to him like wolves to the flanks of a stag; shook one off, regained his feet, swayed; and in one final gust of ferocity dashed both fists repeatedly into the face of him who still clung to him.
That one was Popinot; he knew instinctively that this was so; and a grim joy filled him as he felt the manтАЩs clutches relax and fall away, and guessed how brutal was the damage he had done that fat, evil face.
At length free, he made off, running, stumbling, reeling: gained the hall; flung open the door; and heedless of the picket who had fired on him from below the window, dashed down the steps and away.тБатАКтБатАж
Three shots sped him through that intricate tangle of night-bound park. But all went wide; the pursuitтБатАФwhat little there wasтБатАФblundered off at haphazard and lost itself, as well.
He came to the wall, crept along in shelter of its shadow until he found a tree with a low-swung branch that jutted out over the street, climbed this, edged out over the wall, and dropped to the sidewalk.
A shout from the quarter of the carriage gates greeted his appearance. He turned and ran again. Flying footsteps for a time pursued him; and once, with a sinking heart, he heard the rumble of a motor. But he recovered quickly, regained his wind, and ran well, with long, steady, ground-consuming strides; and he doubled, turned and twisted in a manner to wake the envy of the most subtle fox.
In time he felt warranted in slowing down to a rapid walk.
Weariness was now a heavy burden upon him, and his spirit numb with desperate need of rest; but his pace did not flag, nor his purpose falter from its goal.
It was a long walk if a direct one to which he set himself as soon as confident the pursuit had failed once more. He plodded on, without faltering, to the one place where he might feel sure of finding his beloved, if she lived and were free. He knew that she had not forgotten, and in his heart he knew that she would never again of her own will fail him.тБатАКтБатАж
Nor had she: whenтБатАФweary and spent from that heartbreaking climb up the merciless acclivity of the Butte MontmartreтБатАФhe staggered rather than walked past the sleepy verger and found his way through the crowding shadows to the softly luminous heart of the basilica of the Sacr├й-C┼Уur, he found her there, kneeling, her head bowed upon hands resting on the back of the chair before her: a slight and timid figure, lost and lonely in the long ranks of empty chairs that filled the nave.
Slowly, almost fearfully, he went to her, and silently he slipped into the chair by her side.
She knew, without looking up, that it was he.тБатАКтБатАж
After a little her hand stole out, closed round his fingers, and drew him forward with a gentle, insistent pressure. He knelt then with her, hand in handтБатАФfilled with the wonder of it, that he to whom religion had been nothing should have been brought to this by a womanтАЩs hand.
He knelt for a long time, for many minutes, profoundly intrigued, his sombre gaze questioning the golden shadows and ancient mystery of the distant choir and shining altar: and there was no question in his heart but that, whatever should ensue of this, the unquiet spirit of the Lone Wolf was forevermore at rest.