The Collected Works of P. C. Wren: Complete Beau Geste Series, Novels & Short Stories. P. C. Wren
we should keep our promise?" asked Michael.
"Because you are English. . . . In Brazil, we say, 'Word of an Englishman!' and 'Word of an American!' when we are swearing to keep faith. If you promise, I know you will perform."
"This is very touching," said Michael. "But suppose I give you my word that I haven't got a diamond and never possessed a diamond in my life?"
Bolidar smiled greasily, as at one who must have his little jest.
"Oh, Sehor!" he murmured, waggling his head and his hands idiotically.
"One knows of the little parcel in your belt-pouch," he said.
"Oh, one does, does one?" smiled Michael. "Fancy that now!"
Silence fell.
"Well--as you just said, two or three people can't march off into the desert and expect to live for more than a day or two," observed Michael after a while.
"We might make a party," suggested Bolidar. "It is known that St. André, Maris, Cordier, and one or two more refuse to listen to Schwartz's plan to kill Lejaune."
"Nor are they deserters," said Michael.
"No--but when they know that they are to be killed by the mutineers if they don't join them, or to be killed by Lejaune if they do--what then? . . . Tell them the truth--that Lejaune is going to have no survivors of this mutiny--whichever side they may be on. No. He's going to have the diamond and the credit and glory of suppressing the mutiny and saving the fort single-handed. He'll teach les légionnaires to mutiny! Their mutiny shall end in death for the lot of them--and in wealth and promotion for Lejaune. He sees himself an officer and a rich man on the strength of this fine mutiny. . . . And what happens to the men who told him about the diamond--the men who helped him and risked their lives for him? What, I ask you? . . . Death, I tell you. Death! Death! Death!" he screamed, trembling and slavering like a trapped beast.
"And who did tell him about this wonderful diamond?" asked Michael.
"Boldini," replied Bolidar. "As soon as he rejoined, he told him of the gang of famous London jewel-thieves who had fled from the English police to the Legion. He and Guantaio and Gotto were to get it and give it to Lejaune, who would protect them and who would either place it and share with them, or keep it until they had all served their time. . . . I don't know."
"And they put you up to steal it in Sidi, eh?" asked Michael. "Why you?"
But Bolidar spurned such an unworthy suggestion.
"Anyhow, we're getting away from the point," Michael interrupted him. "What's to be done? We're certainly not going to desert. I wonder if one could possibly persuade the gentle Lejaune that there's no such thing as a diamond in Zinderneuf?"
"What--pretend you hid it and left it--at Sidi-bel-Abbès?" said Bolidar. "That's an idea! . . ."
Michael laughed.
"Did you leave it at Sidi?" asked Bolidar.
"I most certainly have not got a diamond here," replied Michael.
"Do you swear it by the name of God? By your faith in Christ? By your love of the Blessed Virgin? And by your hope for the intercession of the Holy Saints?" asked Bolidar.
"Not in the least," replied Michael. "I merely say it. I have not got a diamond--'Word of an Englishman.'"
"It's a chance," whispered Bolidar. "Dear Christ! It's a chance. Oh, lovely Christ, help me! . . . I'll tell Lejaune you left it at Sidi."
"Tell him what you like," said Michael.
Bolidar pondered.
"Huh! Anyhow, he'll make sure you haven't got it," he said darkly, and rose to his feet. "But I'll try it. I'll try it. There is a small hope. . . . I'll tell you what he says," he added.
"You'll tell us something, I've no doubt," replied Michael, as the heroic Portuguese took up his pails and slunk off.
§7.
"Well, my son--a bit involved, what?" smiled my brother as we were left in solitude.
"What can one do?" I asked feebly.
"Nothing," replied Michael promptly and cheerfully. "Just await events and do the straight thing. I'm not going to bunk. And I'm not going to join any beastly conspiracy. But I think I'm going to 'beat Bolidar to the draw' as Hank and Buddy would say--when he tries to cover me with his rifle."
"In other words, you're going to shoot friend Bolidar before friend Bolidar shoots you?" I said.
"That's it, my son. If he's cur enough to do a dirty murder like that, just because Lejaune tells him to, he must take his little risks," replied Michael.
"And if that happens--I mean if I see him cover you and you shoot him--Lejaune is going with him. It is as much Lejaune's murder as it is Bolidar's," I said.
"You're going to shoot Lejaune, eh?" asked Michael.
"I am," said I, "if Bolidar covers you. Why should he cover you, in particular, out of a score or so of men, unless he has been told to shoot you?"
"Well--we'll tell Bolidar just what's going to happen, and we'll invite him to tell Lejaune too. It would be fairer, perhaps," said Michael.
"Golly," I observed. "Won't it make the lad gibber! One more slayer on his track!"
"Yes," smiled Michael. "Then he'll know that if neither Lejaune nor Boldini nor Schwartz kills him, I shall. Poor old Bolidar. . . ."
"What about poor old us?" I asked.
"We're for it, I should say," replied Michael. "Of course, Lejaune won't believe that this wonderful diamond they are talking about has been left at Sidi, and he'll carry on."
"I'm muddled," I groaned. "Let's get it clear now:
"One: We tell Schwartz we won't join his gang, and that we will warn Lejaune of the plot to murder him . . ."
"Or shall we tell Schwartz that Lejaune knows all about it?" Michael interrupted.
"Good Lord, I'd forgotten that," I said. "I suppose we'd better."
"Then they'll crucify poor old Bolidar for good, this time," grinned Michael. "Serve him right too. Teach him not to go about murdering to order . . . ."
"We need not say who told us that Lejaune knows," I observed.
"And then they will know that you and I are beastly traitors!" said Michael. "Of course, they will at once think that we told him ourselves."
"Probably Guantaio has told them that, and done it himself, meanwhile," I suggested.
"Oh, damn it all--let's talk about something else," groaned Michael. "I'm sick of their silly games."
"Yes, old chap. But it's pretty serious," I said. "Let me just go over it again:
"One: We tell Schwartz that we won't join his gang. And that Lejaune knows all about his plot.
"Two: Lejaune acts before Schwartz does, and he raids the barrack-room the night before the mutiny. We shall either be in bed as though mutineers, or we shall be ordered to join the guard of loyal men who are to arrest the mutineers.
"Three: In either case, Bolidar is to shoot you. But directly he raises his rifle in your direction, you are going to shoot him. (You'll have to take your rifle to bed with you if Lejaune is going to pretend that you are a mutineer.)
"Four: If I see that Bolidar is out to murder you, I shall shoot Lejaune myself. (I shall take my rifle to bed too, if we are left with the mutineers.)
"Five: If . . ."
"Five: The fat will be in the fire, nicely, then," interrupted Michael. "What can we do but bolt into the desert with the rest, if you kill Lejaune? You'd be the most badly-wanted of all the badly-wanted mutineers, after that. . . . They'd