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Page 91
"No, Laura; I am only sad. I wish we were safely on the yacht. Yes,
yes; I _am_ afraid, of something I know not what."
"I never dreamed that he could be dishonest. He was a gentleman,
somewhere in his past. I do not quite understand it all. The money
does not interest my father so much as the mere sport of finding it.
You know it was agreed to divide, his share among the officers and
seamen, and the balance to our guests. It would have been such fun."
And the woman who knew everything must perforce remain silent. With
what eloquence she could have defended him!
"Do you think we shall find it?" wistfully.
"No, Laura."
"How can he find his way back without passing us?"
"For a desperate man who has thrown his all on this one chance, he will
find a hundred ways of returning."
A carriage came round one of the pinnacled _calenches_. It was empty.
M. Ferraud casually noted the number. He was not surprised. He had
been waiting for this same vehicle. It was Breitmann's, but the man
driving it was not the man who had driven it out of Ajaccio. He was an
Evisan. A small butterfly fluttered alongside. M. Ferraud jumped out
and swooped with his hat. He decided not to impart his discovery to
the others. He was assured that the man from Evisa knew absolutely
nothing, and that to question him would be a waste of time. At this
very moment it was not unlikely that Breitmann and his confederate were
crossing the mountains; perhaps with three or four sturdy donkeys,
their panniers packed with precious metal. And the dupe would go
straight to his fellow-conspirators and share his millions. Curious
old world!
They saw Evisa at sunset, one of the seven glories of the earth. The
little village rests on the side of a mountain, nearly three-thousand
feet above the sea, the sea itself lying miles away to the west,
V-shaped between two enormous shafts of burning granite. Even the
admiral forgot his smoldering wrath.
The hotel was neat and cool, and all the cook had to do was to furnish
dishes and hot water for tea. There was very little jesting, and what
there was of it fell to the lot of Coldfield and the Frenchman. The
spirit in them all was tense. Given his way, the admiral would have
gone out that very night with lanterns.
"Folly! To find a given point in an unknown forest at night;
impossible! Am I not right, Mr. Cathewe? Of course. Breitmann's man
knew A�tone from his youth. Suppose," continued M. Ferraud, "that we
spend two days here?"
"What? Give him all the leeway?" The admiral was amazed that M.
Ferraud could suggest such a stupidity. "No. In the morning we make
the search. If there's nothing there we'll return at once."
M. Ferraud spoke to the young woman who waited on the table. "Please
find Carlo, the driver, and bring him here."
Ten minutes later Carlo came in, hat in hand, curious.
"Carlo," began the Frenchman, leaning on his elbows, his sharp eyes
boring into the mild brown ones of the Corsican, "we shall not return
to Carghese to-morrow but the day after."
"Not return to-morrow?" cried Carlo dismayed.
"Ah, but the _signore_ does not understand. We are engaged day after
to-morrow to carry a party to Bonifacio. We have promised. We must
return to-morrow."
Fitzgerald saw the drift and bent forward. The admiral fumed because
his Italian was an indifferent article.
"But," pursued M. Ferraud, "we will pay you twenty francs the day, just
the same."
"We are promised." Carlo shrugged and spread his hands, but the glitter
in his questioner's eyes disquieted him.
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