GRIP!" 
 

 
 BY 
 
 JOHN STRANGE WINTER 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 STONE 6 KIMBALL 
 
 M DCCC XCVI
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY 
 STONE AND KIMBALL 
 
 PS
 
 GRIP!" 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BLACK COAT OR RED ? 
 
 I HAD been round to the stables after 
 dinner to see if Joe, the under-groom, 
 had been successful in getting hold of 
 a ferret of which I was particularly anx- 
 ious to possess myself at a reasonable 
 price. No sign of Joe was to be found, 
 and I sauntered back to the house again, 
 and sat down under the veranda which 
 ran along the side of the house where 
 the dining-room was. I could hear my 
 father's voice as he sat over his wine 
 with his great friend and our nearest 
 neighbor, Squire Eden. I had no intention 
 of listening to their conversation, but we 
 Somerses were not a family who dealt in 
 
 5
 
 Grip 
 
 secrets and seldom or never took the trouble 
 to lower our voices. 
 
 "Yes, Eden," my father was saying, 
 " I know the living is yours by rights ; that 
 was why I gave it to your brother Tom. 
 But now that he is gone, poor fellow, I mean 
 to put in a warming-pan and keep it for 
 George." 
 
 " But why don't you give Somersley to 
 George ? " Squire Eden asked. " You've 
 got a warming-pan there, too." 
 
 " I am going to give it to George," said 
 my father, quietly. 
 
 Squire Eden gave a low whistle of as- 
 tonishment. " Whew ! I see that you mean 
 to provide for the lad well and easily," 
 he remarked, significantly. "They must 
 be worth a cool thousand a year between 
 them." 
 
 " See here," said my father, as if a bright 
 idea had occurred to him. " My George 
 and your Margaret have been sweethearts 
 ever since they could toddle. They shall 
 marry and live at Somersley. 'Tis the best 
 house of the two, and they can put a curate 
 in at Thorpe-Hutton." 
 6
 
 Black Coat or Red 
 
 " Agreed," cried the Squire, " if so be that 
 the young folk themselves are agreeable." 
 
 I slipped out of hearing. I was but a lad 
 of sixteen, but all my pulses were tingling 
 and my blood coursing through my veins at 
 double-quick speed. With pleasure ? Oh, 
 dear, no ; but, on the contrary, with anger 
 and fury and disgust. Was I, for the sake 
 of a paltry thousand a year, no matter 
 whether it happened to be warm or cool, to 
 be stuck into a parson's black coat and 
 kept psalm-singing all my days, when my 
 sole aim and object in life was to wear the 
 scarlet of the soldier and to carve my name 
 indelibly upon the great roll of fame ? And 
 all for the sake of a mere girl Pooh, it was 
 preposterous ! It was true that we had 
 been reckoned sweethearts all our lives, but 
 to become a parson for Margaret's sake 
 why, that was quite another matter. 
 
 I was very fond of Margaret oh, yes, 
 and I admired her dainty peach-bloom face, 
 but to be a parson a parson ! That was a 
 different thing altogether. 
 
 Besides, Margaret was such a mite, four 
 years younger than I, and small and slight 
 
 7
 
 Grip 
 
 at that. It was preposterous for our fathers 
 to try to settle any such question. 
 
 Margaret was the eldest of the Eden 
 family. Then came Edward, the heir, a 
 cocky young beggar two years younger, who 
 always seemed to have his elbows or knees 
 out The second girl, Constance, was three 
 years younger than Edward, and the other 
 boy was four years younger still. 
 
 In our household there were two brothers 
 and two sisters older than I and one boy 
 younger the little Benjamin we always 
 called him, though his right name was 
 Wynne, after my mother's family. 
 
 At this time my eldest brother Robert 
 was in the Guards ; then came Will, a dear 
 old chap, in London reading for the Bar. 
 Then the two girls, Lucy and Rachel, twins 
 of three- and-twenty, both rather pretty girls 
 of a reddish type. Young Wynne was only 
 thirteen years old. 
 
 We were all reddish, we Somerses ; and, 
 with the exception of Wynne, who came 
 into the world as our mother left it, we all 
 ran to size not mere length of limb, but to 
 breadth of shoulder and depth of chest, and 
 8
 
 Black Coat or Red 
 
 to immense strength of person and consti- 
 tution. And I had fully made up my mind 
 that no black coat should ever case in my 
 longings. 
 
 I had hard work to make my father see 
 things in the same light : he was as deter- 
 mined as I was. But I said my say. 
 
 " I am very sorry to go against you, Sir 
 Robert," I said bluntly we all called our 
 father " Sir Robert," more by way of show- 
 ing our affection than anything else " but 
 I cannot be a parson. The people would 
 laugh in my face. The farmers would 
 remember the apples I had stolen, and the 
 rat-hunts and the cock-fights 1 had joined 
 in. I must be a soldier." 
 
 " I cannot afford another soldier," said 
 my father. 
 
 " You are thinking of Bob ! " I exclaimed. 
 " Oh, I've no wish to be a fine gentleman 
 dandy soldier like Bob." 
 
 My father burst out laughing. " You had 
 better not let Bob hear you speaking of him 
 in such fashion as that," he said chuckling. 
 " Gad, he'd crack your skull for you, I war- 
 rant."
 
 Grip 
 
 " I can't help it, Sir Robert," I said des- 
 perately. " I want to be a soldier I wiil 
 be a soldier." 
 
 "And what about the two livings I 
 meant them for you ? " 
 
 " I can't help it. Give them to Wynne. 
 He is delicate, and could never rough it. 
 He will be far happier at Somersley Rec- 
 tory than ever I should be. Give them to 
 Wynne." 
 
 " I will speak to him. I cannot force 
 Wynne one way or another," said my father, 
 shortly. 
 
 The result of this conversation was that 
 my father held a consultation with Wynne, 
 who, young as he was, had a wise little 
 head on his shoulders, and saw the sense of 
 things as if he had been twice his age. 
 And Wynne consented to make the two 
 livings of Somersley safe. 
 
 All the same, I was not a little uneasy in 
 my mind, fearing that Wynne had been 
 sacrificed for me and I sounded him on 
 the subject. His answer reassured me. 
 " Dear old George," he said Wynne had 
 always loved me beyond the ordinary ways 
 10
 
 Black Coat or Red 
 
 of brothers from his babyhood " I don't 
 think I would have chosen to be a parson ; 
 I wanted to be an artist and paint pictures 
 and go to Rome. But Sir Robert is anxious 
 about the livings, and I don't mind. You 
 want to be a soldier. I'll be the parson." 
 
 So I had my way, and my father pur- 
 chased for me a commission as ensign in 
 the i36th Foot the Regent's Own. I was 
 a soldier in spite of everything. 
 
 The life that I led for three years after 
 I entered the Army does not in any way 
 concern the story. It suited me to a nicety. 
 I loved my work and was popular among 
 my fellows. I was a strong favorite with 
 the men of my company, chiefly because I 
 was good at every kind of sport, could drink 
 without showing it, and was blessed with 
 plenty of the real old Yorkshire pluck, 
 which was my birthright. A good many 
 lads from the neighborhood of Somersley 
 chose to follow my fortunes by enlisting in 
 the i36th, and they, not a little to the 
 amusement of my brother officers, persisted 
 in calling me " Mr. Garge," just as they 
 had done in the days of my boyhood, when 
 ii
 
 Grip 
 
 we had raided the orchards of the neighbor- 
 hood together, or engaged in other distrac- 
 tions equally common to all sorts and condi- 
 tions of boys living in the depths of the 
 country. And my name in the regiment 
 was " the Bulldog." 
 
 The first time that I went home after I 
 joined was just a year from the time of my 
 first setting out into the world. I was big- 
 ger and redder than ever, and my father 
 looked my inches over in intensest admira- 
 tion. 
 
 " Well, Sir Robert ? " I said at last. 
 
 "You're no beauty, my boy," said he, 
 drawing a deep breath ; " but I think you're 
 the finest fellow I ever saw. I'm proud of 
 you, George. I'm glad you chose to be a 
 soldier 'twould have been a pity to waste 
 so much bone and muscle in the pulpit." 
 
 So I was well satisfied with my lot. 
 
 The following year I did not go home at 
 all, pleading the expense of the long journey 
 as my excuse, for we were quartered in Ire- 
 land. When time for my long leave came 
 round again Sir Robert wrote himself say- 
 ing that he hoped my Irish invitations would 
 12
 
 Black Coat or Red 
 
 not blot out the fact from my memory that 
 I had a home in Yorkshire ; also, he added, 
 as my sister Lucy had arranged her wedding 
 to take place in November, he begged I 
 would be there for it. 
 
 So I went home. I was then nearly of 
 age, and I do believe that I was bigger and 
 broader and stronger and redder than ever ! 
 
 "Why, Mr. Garge," said the old head- 
 keeper to me, " you do grow, to be sure ; 
 you're like t' side of a hoose." 
 
 " Then you don't think I've grown pretty, 
 William," I remarked, jokingly. 
 
 The sturdy old chap shook his head 
 " Nay nay, Mr. Garge," he replied, with 
 the literal bluntness of a true Yorkshire- 
 man ; " if beauty's a sin, ye've none to an- 
 swer till." 
 
 And he was quite right I was uglier 
 than ever ! Still, beauty or no beauty, my 
 want of looks did not prevent me from fall- 
 ing in love. I saw Margaret Eden at my 
 sister's wedding for the first time since I 
 had gone into the Service, and if I had not 
 grown in beauty Margaret had not been idle 
 in that way. I saw and I was conquered. 
 
 '3
 
 Grip 
 
 I realized before the bride and groom had 
 gone off on their honeymoon journey that 
 Margaret Eden was my fate she was per- 
 fection ! 
 
 Well, I was young, well-born, and a sol- 
 dier. It was true that I had in my younger 
 days flung away the chance of being Mar- 
 garet's husband with all the lavish prodigal- 
 ity of youth. I had refused the two good 
 family livings which were at my disposal, 
 and it would be years before I should ever 
 make enough to compensate for them. 
 Still, I should have a modest fortune under 
 my mother's marriage settlement, for she 
 had been well dowered as well as beautiful. 
 And I had also another chance of inherit- 
 ance from my mother's sister, who was my 
 godmother and unmarried, and she, being 
 well off, might be expected to do something 
 for me when she should have no further 
 need of her money. 
 
 I have none but a very dim remembrance 
 of my mother, and, somehow, I never liked 
 to ask Sir Robert whether she had at all 
 resembled my Aunt Eliza in person the 
 very thought seemed like a sacrilege. And 
 
 14
 
 Black Coat or Red 
 
 yet Aunt Eliza was kindness itself in her 
 way to us, and and I don't know that 
 she was any more queer to look at than 
 most other ladies of her age who did not 
 wear their own hair and spent all their even- 
 ings and most of their afternoons playing 
 whist for sixpenny points. 
 
 " Bless me, Robert," I remember her say- 
 ing one day to my father as she stood by 
 the library table watching him write a letter 
 " bless me, Robert, your hair's as gray as 
 a badger," and she ruffled his curly locks 
 as if he had been a child. 
 
 My father hated to have his hair touched, 
 and he recoiled from her invading hand 
 with a look of deepest annoyance. " I 
 daresay it is, ma'am," he replied with acid- 
 ity "and I wonder what color yours is, if 
 one could see it." 
 
 " Your poor father is getting very touchy," 
 said Aunt Eliza to me afterwards, in a pity- 
 ing tone. " I am very sorry to see it it's 
 such a bad sign in an elderly man." 
 
 They often sparred like this, but it never 
 went any farther, perhaps because Sir Robert 
 remembered that we at Somersley were not
 
 Grip 
 
 the only nieces and nephews the good lady 
 possessed. But of all I was her special 
 favorite, and I saw with satisfaction that 
 she regarded Margaret Eden with no small 
 amount of favor. Several times she des- 
 canted to me on her charms and always in 
 contradistinction to my two sisters, whose 
 inches andbonniness were a source of great 
 trouble to her. 
 
 " Nice good girls, your sisters," she said 
 to me the day after my arrival at home, 
 " but I must confess I like something more 
 genteel and ladylike something less ag- 
 gressively robust. Now Margaret Eden 
 
 is " and there Aunt Eliza paused and 
 
 looked at me. 
 
 And when the next day I saw Margaret 
 I was fain to confess that she was well, 
 perfection. 
 
 It came back to me in a moment that I 
 had always thought her so, that we had al- 
 ways been sweethearts, that she was the 
 only human being in all the world for whom 
 I had ever felt a spark of real romantic 
 passion. She was my fate ! 
 
 How curiously things fall out ! I fancy 
 16
 
 Black Coat or Red 
 
 that, if nothing out of the ordinary had 
 happened, Margaret would have been kept 
 very carefully out of my way, and that I 
 should never have been given the chance 
 of making any impression upon her. But, 
 as it happened, the Squire and Mrs. Eden 
 were called to London by the serious illness 
 of Mrs. Eden's mother, and Margaret was 
 left practically mistress of the household. 
 Of course there was the old nurse, Goody, 
 who had been in the family for forty years, 
 but her time was pretty well taken up with 
 a new baby, and she did not count for much 
 or prove any check upon my frequent 
 visits. 
 
 I don't know that I should have gone 
 over to Thorpe-Hutton quite so often had 
 Mrs. Eden been at home, but, as it was, I 
 made the best of my time and blessed the 
 considerateness of the old lady in London 
 who had so opportunely fallen ill, though I 
 wished her all in good time a happy issue 
 to her troubles. Poor old lady ! She did 
 get through them to a happy issue in the 
 end, though not quite the one that I had 
 had in view for she died when I had
 
 Grip 
 
 been at home nearly a month and the Eden 
 family was plunged into deep mourning. 
 
 I was sorry to hear that the poor old lady 
 was gone, but still her death gave me a 
 fortnight's grace, for the Squire and Mrs. 
 Eden had to stay in London to see to the 
 funeral and arrange her affairs, or at least 
 set them in train for settlement, before they 
 could think of returning home. 
 
 But at last, just as my leave was draw- 
 ing to a close, and my time was getting 
 short, the news came, sent on from York 
 by a special messenger, that they would be 
 at home the following day ! This intelli- 
 gence, though not unexpected, came on me 
 like a thunder-clap. 
 
 " Margaret ! " I said, speaking in a great 
 hurry, " I must speak ; I can't hold my 
 peace any longer. Margaret, love, darling, 
 sweetheart of my childhood, say is there 
 any chance for me, any hope ? I love you, 
 Margaret; I love you distractedly, de- 
 votedly ; I love you forever."
 
 Vain Regret 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 VAIN R.EGRET. 
 
 "1\TARGARET, your answer?" I 
 
 IVI cried. 
 
 She looked half shyly, half doubtfully, 
 from under her dark lashes. "Dear old 
 George!" she said, softly, 
 
 " But what does ' Dear old George ' 
 mean ? " I said. " Margaret, don't keep 
 me in suspense." 
 
 " I don't know what to say," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " Say ' yes,' " I urged. 
 
 " But I cannot do that. I don't know 
 what father and mamma would say. I'm 
 afraid they will think we are too young for 
 one thing, and and " 
 
 "But you don't think that we're too 
 young, Margaret ? " I cried, almost beside 
 myself at ,the very hint of opposition.
 
 Grip 
 
 "Oh, Margaret Margaret if you love 
 me as I love you," I burst out, passion- 
 ately and then I lost my head and caught 
 hold of her again. " Margaret, you do 
 love me ? " 
 
 She looked coyly down. " I've always 
 loved you, George," she said. Then quali- 
 fied the assertion by adding " all of you." 
 
 " Never mind the others," I cried, des- 
 perately. " I only want to know what you 
 feel for me. Margaret, speak." 
 
 "I don't know what to say," she 
 whispered. 
 
 "I'll teach you then," I answered. 
 " See, you don't say a word but but 
 you look at me and and " and Mar- 
 garet kissed me. 
 
 I felt that those kisses had sanctified 
 my love, that they had given her to me, 
 that our betrothal was as solemn as if we 
 had stood to exchange vows before the 
 table in Thorpe-Hutton church. I looked 
 straight into her half-frightened eyes and 
 kissed her again. 
 
 " Dearest," I said, gently, " I am yours 
 to do with as you will from now to eternity. 
 20
 
 Vain Regret 
 
 I love you. Body and soul I belong to 
 you and you to me. I daresay your 
 father and mother may think us young and 
 improvident. I suppose we are both in 
 truth. And yet yet if we love one 
 another, what do such details, such mere 
 circumstances as money and provision 
 matter against the glory of our love ? " 
 
 " I am afraid that father and mamma 
 will think so," she said doubtfully. 
 
 That evening after dinner I told my 
 father what had happened. . 
 
 " Well, young man," he exclaimed, 
 " you've put your foot in it properly." 
 
 " Not at all, Sir Robert," I returned, 
 rather shortly. " I have done the best 
 thing for myself that I possibly could do." 
 
 " For yourself yes ! But Squire Eden 
 will naturally ask whether you have done 
 the best thing possible for Margaret ? " 
 
 His remark seemed to pull me up short, 
 as if I were a hound that had strayed too 
 far from his tether, and I had been pulled 
 up with a jerk. " I don't see " I be- 
 gan, but my father interrupted me. 
 
 "My dear lad," he said, "you never do 
 21
 
 Grip 
 
 see anything but what happens exactly to 
 suit yourself just af the moment. Now, 
 it's ten chances to one that Squire Eden 
 will think and say that the marriage or 
 even an engagement is quite out of the 
 question ; and if he does, I must warn you 
 that although you are my son I shall 
 uphold him. However, if you manage to 
 bring the affair to a successful issue, I shall 
 be ready with a hearty welcome. Here's 
 to your health and hers, my lad, and good 
 luck to you." 
 
 The following day I rode over to Thorpe- 
 Hutton, and, giving my horse into the 
 hands of one of the grooms, went indoors, 
 and asked for the Squire. 
 
 The servant showed me into the Squire's 
 study a little room where he kept his guns 
 and fishing-rods and attended to business 
 matters. 
 
 " Ah, George, my dear lad ! " was his 
 greeting to me. " Are you at home again ? 
 It seems years since I saw you. What a 
 fine, strapping fellow you've grown 1 " 
 
 " I am glad you think so, sir," I replied. 
 " I hope you are well and Mrs. Eden ? " 
 22
 
 Vain Regret 
 
 " As well as can be," he replied. 
 
 " I daresay you are surprised to see me 
 so soon after your arrival, sir," I began 
 " but the truth is, I felt I could not come 
 too soon. I have come to ask you for 
 Margaret." 
 
 " For Margaret ? " he repeated, evidently 
 not having fully taken in my meaning. 
 
 " Margaret and I want to be married, 
 sir," I explained. 
 
 He looked up in a startled kind of way. 
 
 " To be married ! " he echoed. " You 
 and Margaret ? Oh, nonsense ! " 
 
 " Not nonsense at all, sir," I said with 
 dignity. 
 
 " You and Margaret ! But but she's a 
 mere child barely out of the schoolroom." 
 
 " Close on seventeen," I put in. 
 
 " Yes ; but what's that ? A mere child. 
 And you, George, you are not of age yet. 
 Oh ! come back again in five years' time 
 and we'll think about it ! " 
 
 " But we want you to think about it now." 
 
 " Oh ! do you ? Have you told your 
 father ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir."
 
 Grip 
 
 " And he is willing ? " 
 
 " Perfectly ; if so be that it is not dis- 
 pleasing to you and Mrs. Eden." 
 
 "Is he going to increase your allow- 
 ance ? " 
 
 " We did not speak of that." 
 
 " H'm ! Well, my dear George, I should 
 say that your father will not be inclined to 
 think of it either. I have been in London, 
 my dear boy, for a few weeks, and I don't 
 as a rule walk about with my eyes shut." 
 
 "I don't understand you, sir," I said. 
 
 " You have a brother in the Guards," he 
 said, more significantly ; " and Bob is going 
 the pace up there with all the other young 
 bloods of his set. I don't think your 
 father will feel himself at all inclined to 
 increase your allowance even by half. Let 
 
 me see you have ? " He broke off 
 
 and looked at me questioningly. 
 
 "Two hundred and fifty a year," Ire- 
 plied, and surely never had the sum 
 seemed so modest to me before. 
 
 " And you have debts ? " 
 
 " I am not what could reasonably be 
 called ' in debt,' sir," I replied a little hotly. 
 24
 
 Vain Regret 
 
 " No no ; I am not trying to cast asper- 
 sions on you," he said, soothingly. "But 
 still, there are various odds and ends which 
 will have to be settled sooner or later say 
 a hundred to a hundred and fifty, hey ? " 
 
 "Thereabouts," I admitted; and I felt 
 as if the ground were gradually slipping 
 away from under my feet. 
 
 " Yes, I thought so a mere trifle, a hun- 
 dred and fifty or two hundred like all the 
 other young bloods. Still, it will have to 
 be paid and so will Bob's few thousands 
 that he is throwing right and left like water. 
 And so I am afraid that any idea of a mar- 
 riage between you and Margaret is alto- 
 gether out of the question for the present 
 for the present, at all events," he ended, 
 with emphasis. 
 
 I was silent for a minute or two trying 
 hard to gulp down my disappointment and 
 chagrin. At last, however, I ventured to 
 trust my voice. 
 
 " Squire," I said, and I felt as if all the 
 blood in my body had rushed into my face 
 and was seething and boiling in my ears, 
 " I have known you all my life and I must 
 
 2 S
 
 Grip 
 
 be above-board and honest with you. I 
 mean to have Margaret for my wife. You 
 know the Somers' motto, ' Grip.' You 
 know the Somers' character for hanging 
 on. They call me 'the bulldog' in my 
 regiment. I mean to have Margaret. I've 
 been careless and I have a few paltry 
 debis I'll pay 'em, so help me God ! But 
 I'll have Margaret. I've set my heart and 
 soul on her. She loves me ! That's enough 
 for me." 
 
 He looked up at me in astonishment, 
 then rose slowly from his chair at the table 
 and came close up to where I was standing. 
 
 " D n it, my lad ! " he exclaimed, 
 
 "you're the finest Somers of them all. 
 Give me your hand. I hope that you will 
 get through and that my little maid will 
 be true to you. But you must prove your 
 fine words and show what stuff you are 
 made of." 
 
 He held out his hand and gripped mine 
 hard, then broke out almost irritably, 
 "Now, why the devil couldn't you follow 
 the course your father and I marked out 
 for you, and qualify for the two rectories ? " 
 26
 
 Vain Regret 
 
 " Because I was too young to know my 
 own mind," I replied, " Sir Robert knew 
 what was best. He ought to have left me 
 no choice in a matter so serious." 
 
 " Nay, lad," cried the Squire, " your 
 father was right in the main and you were 
 hard set on having your own way. Never 
 cast it back at him, however things happen 
 to turn out. I mind me how my poor 
 mother used to say time and again : ' What 
 is, is best.' It's a rare useful saying. Keep 
 it in your heart, boy." 
 
 " But about Margaret ? " I asked. 
 
 " Well, my lad, pay off your few bits of 
 debts it will only mean a little self-denial 
 and then come to me again and we'll talk 
 it over in a different light. But the maid 
 must be free, mind -tree as air."
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AUNT ELIZA SAYS TWO WORDS. 
 
 I HAD but a few days of leave left ere 
 I had to say good-bye to my sweet- 
 heart and make the long journey back to 
 Ireland and my regiment. 
 
 Margaret promised very tearfully that 
 she would be true, and her mother im- 
 pressed upon me her opinion that if I really 
 loved her with all my heart I should best 
 show it by not coming back until my debts 
 were paid to the uttermost farthing. And 
 the Squire thumped me on the back and 
 dismissed me, with a few cut-and-dried 
 choice old maxims to carry me on my way 
 "' A pin a day is a groat a year,' says 
 poor Richard ; " " Take care of the pence 
 and the pounds will take care of them- 
 selves ; " " A penny saved is a penny earned " 
 and other such scraps of cheese-paring 
 information ; but of promises I had none, 
 28
 
 Aunt Eliza Says Two Words 
 
 excepting that one little tearful promise of 
 Margaret's, which, as soon as my back was 
 turned, her kinsfolk might try all in their 
 power to nullify. 
 
 Well, I had made my bed, and I knew 
 that I must lie on it. I had done my best 
 to retrieve my blunder in letting the chance 
 of Somersley Rectory slip through my rin- 
 gers. I regretted it heart and soul aye, 
 heart and soul ! Not that I felt myself the 
 better qualified for orders than I had done 
 five years before. No, no ; but I was in 
 love, overwhelmingly, desperately, mad- 
 deningly in love, and I would willingly have 
 turned chimney-sweep 'if by so doing I could 
 advance my cause. 
 
 I did not hear from my sweetheart until 
 I had written three times to her. Then I 
 received a shy little letter, as coy as my 
 darling's eyes. 
 
 " Mamma thinks," she said in the course 
 of it, " that you are extremely extravagant 
 to write so frequently, and bids me say so. 
 Mamma desires to be kindly and affection- 
 ately remembered to you, and bids me also 
 say that in her opinion once in three months 
 29
 
 Grip 
 
 is quite often enough to write, particularly 
 as you had not troubled to get your letters 
 franked ! 
 
 " We purpose, as I daresay you will be 
 much surprised to hear, removing to Lon- 
 don in a fortnight's time, so as to spend 
 the main part of the season there. We are 
 still in somewhat deep mourning, but it 
 was my dear grandmamma's especial desire 
 that I should be presented at Court before 
 my eighteenth birthday, the same as my 
 mamma was. We are going to take up our 
 abode in grandmamma's house in Chester- 
 field Square, she having left it to mamma 
 for the purpose. I did not know when we 
 parted that dear grandmamma had left me 
 her suite of pearls with a wish expressed 
 that I should wear them for my presentation 
 and on my wedding-day. They are very 
 fine and worth a large sum. Mamma says 
 I am to regard them as an heirloom. 
 
 " I hope you are well, dear George, and 
 working hard. My father and Constance 
 and my brothers desire to be kindly remem- 
 bered to you, and I subscribe myself your 
 affectionate and sincere Margaret Eden."
 
 Aunt Eliza Says Two Words 
 
 It was a dear little letter, and yet, when 
 I read it over a second time, I felt that its 
 simplicity was not so real as seemed upon 
 the first blush ! So they were going to 
 London while I was grinding away at sol- 
 diering in Ireland, and while I was saving 
 every halfpenny, and keeping religiously 
 out of the way of the blue-eyed Irish beau- 
 ties, the Edens were launching out, and my 
 Margaret was to be introduced, against all 
 the prevailing notion of etiquette, into the 
 gay world of fashion. 
 
 The Somerses had never shone as letter- 
 writers, so that I never looked for much 
 news from home. I did have a long letter 
 about this time from my sister Rachel, 
 which I read with amazement. 
 
 " Our neighbors, the Edens, are on the 
 eve of departure for London, and I hear 
 great accounts of the gay doings in which 
 they expect to participate. Doubtless, 
 however, my dear brother, you have all this 
 news at first-hand, so I will not fill my 
 paper with what would be a repetition. 
 They say that old Lady Maria left Mrs. 
 Eden a fortune of one hundred and fifty 
 
 3 1
 
 Grip 
 
 thousand pounds, and certainly their lately 
 increased expenditure does not seem in- 
 consistent therewith. One would not have 
 credited her ladyship with the possession 
 of as many pence." 
 
 So that was the meaning of the journey 
 to London the Edens were going to launch 
 forth. And Lady Maria had left one 
 hundred and fifty thousand pounds to her 
 daughter ! That was news indeed, and yet 
 it gave me no pleasure. For it was plain 
 that had they meant me to be their daugh- 
 ter's husband they would never have al- 
 lowed a paltry couple of hundred pounds 
 to stand so determinedly in the way. No ; 
 it had been but a ruse to gain time, so that 
 they could keep me quiet in Ireland, and 
 give my Margaret every chance of making 
 a more eligible alliance. 
 
 I wrote several times to Margaret at the 
 address in Chesterfield Square, but without 
 success of reply. And then, just as I was 
 beginning to have wild thoughts of going 
 over to London to find out what was going 
 on, a letter came and the blow fell. 
 
 It was as I expected. She wrote herself, 
 
 32
 
 Aunt Eliza Says Two Words 
 
 but I recognized the true spirit of Lady 
 Maria's daughter in every line : 
 
 " DEAR GEORGE, Mamma and I feel that 
 it is due to you that I should write to you 
 at once, to tell you of a great change that 
 has taken place in my life. I am engaged 
 to be married to the Comte Desmond de 
 Lancy a French nobleman of very old 
 family, who has been for two years past at 
 the French Embassy here, but who is now 
 on the point of leaving and returning to his 
 own country. You will be surprised that I 
 am going to marry a Frenchman, but the 
 Comte's mother was an English lady, a cou- 
 sin of Lord Pierpoint's, and his sympathies 
 have always been English. I believe that 
 he is considered too sympathetic to Eng- 
 land to remain longer in an important dip- 
 lomatic position. We are to be married 
 in about two months' time, and will live 
 mostly in Paris, or on Comte de Lancy's 
 estate on the Rhone. He is very rich. 
 
 " I hope, my dear George, that you will 
 be content to know that I am happy, and 
 that our boy and girl affaire de caur will 
 
 33
 
 Grip 
 
 not be inconsistent with a lifelong friend- 
 ship. I have already received your father's 
 congratulations, as he is in London, and 
 was here taking dinner yesterday." 
 
 So they had carried their point, and the 
 sacrifice was one stage further towards 
 completion ! I rose up in a fury and sought 
 out my commanding officer, and to him I 
 preferred my request for leave of absence 
 in a voice which trembled so much that my 
 lips could scarce frame the words. 
 
 " Is anything serious the matter ? " he 
 asked, looking at me in amazement. " Have 
 you bad news ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, very bad news," I replied. 
 
 "I hope your father is not dead?" he 
 said, kindly. 
 
 I could not command myself to speak 
 for a minute or so. " It strikes nearer 
 home than that, sir," I said. 
 
 " As how ? " 
 
 " They are going to sell my sweetheart 
 to a beast of a Frenchman," I burst 
 out. 
 
 It was enough ! He signed the paper, 
 
 34
 
 Aunt Eliza Says Two Words 
 
 and an hour later I set out for England 
 and London. 
 
 By dint of travelling day and night, I 
 arrived in London within a week of re- 
 ceiving the fatal news. I repaired straight 
 to the house of my Aunt Eliza, which was 
 in a street of tall houses just off Russell 
 Square. I found her on the point of sitting 
 down to breakfast, it being hard on the 
 hour of nine. She got up in a great hurry 
 when she saw me, calling out, " Why, 
 George is that you ? Is aught amiss ? " 
 
 I told her all. I told her the story 
 from the beginning to the end, and wound 
 up, " Aunt Eliza, I'm your godson, and 
 my mother was your favorite sister. I've 
 never traded on it. I've never asked you 
 for a shilling in my life. But will you help 
 me now ? I've paid off thirty pounds of 
 my few debts since I was at home last year. 
 Will you help me, so that I may go boldly 
 and say ' I am free,' and claim my bride ? " 
 
 My aunt's comment on this was brief 
 enough. " Little hussy ! " she said, sharply. 
 
 " 'Tis none of her doing," I cried, in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 35
 
 Grip 
 
 "Perhaps not," she said, dryly. "But 
 I'll see you righted, George, so far as the 
 money goes. You've come to me fair and 
 straight: and, as you say, 'tis the first 
 time you have ever asked a favor of me. 
 You shall have the money to-morrow, and 
 if you succeed in Chesterfield Square I will 
 promise you a handsome addition to your 
 allowance say, three hundred a year as 
 long as I live. When I'm gone, what I 
 have will be yours ; I don't have a favor- 
 ite for nothing." 
 
 I have a dim recollection that I fell down 
 at her feet and hid my red head in her lap. 
 I can feel the touch of her hand on my hair 
 to this day. " Dear Aunt Eliza," I said, 
 after a time, " I don't want to be looking 
 forward to the time when you won't want 
 your money. I am no fortune-seeker, as 
 you know. But the two hundred pounds 
 I do want and badly, and the help that you 
 generously offer me afterwards I accept 
 with all my gratitude." And then I kissed 
 her two hands and struggled to my feet 
 again, feeling a little ashamed of my out- 
 burst.
 
 Aunt Eliza Says Two Words 
 
 "There there get a good breakfast 
 and then go and see what fortune awaits 
 you," said my aunt, kindly. " If you come 
 back a victor I'll eat the words I uttered 
 about Margaret Eden just now." 
 
 She was safe in making such a promise. 
 I went along to the house in Chesterfield 
 Square, a grand-looking mansion, where the 
 door was opened by a splendid footman 
 who looked me over as if I were something 
 to sell and he had no mind to buy me, and 
 after some delay I was taken into a dainty 
 little room where Mrs. Eden came to me. 
 
 But why detail what followed ? In brief, 
 she told me that Margaret was distressed 
 that I should have thought anything more 
 of our little affair, that she was devotedly 
 attached to Comte de Lancy, and that it 
 would be as useless as painful to see 
 her. 
 
 I insisted on doing so, as my right, and 
 presently Margaret came to me, a Margaret 
 that was lovelier than ever a fashionable, 
 elegant, modish Margaret, whom I did not 
 know, and yet with whom I was more madly 
 in love than I had been with the simple 
 
 37
 
 Grip 
 
 little maid that I had wooed a while back 
 at Thorpe-Hutton. 
 
 But she made herself quite clear to me. 
 Among other changes she had acquired a 
 light and airy manner, so that every word 
 she uttered stabbed me right to the very 
 heart. 
 
 " Dear old George," she said the very 
 words that she had used months before at 
 Thorpe-Hutton, and yet how different " I 
 am afraid you are feeling anger against me ; 
 but though I am distracted to grieve you, 
 I must admit that I have given all my heart 
 to Comte de Lancy." 
 
 " Margaret ! '' I said, with deep reproach, 
 "you promised." 
 
 "Did I?" she asked, airily. "It was 
 very silly of me. You see I was a mere 
 child ; and I had never seen Desmond." 
 
 I saw as I looked hard at her that she 
 was utterly lost to me. It was no use to 
 say another word words are as dross in 
 some moments of our lives. I looked at 
 her again I forgot myself, the Frenchman, 
 everything, and I caught hold of her, and 
 kissed her fiercely a dozen times. She 
 
 38
 
 Aunt Eliza Says Two Words 
 
 freed herself at last with a cry, " How dare 
 you how dare you ! " she gasped ; and 
 then she snatched a little handkerchief from 
 her belt and rubbed her lips hard as if my 
 touch had been pollution. 
 
 I looked at her and laughed, a laugh 
 that sounded frightful even to my own ears. 
 "Dare?" I said, with a sneer; "do you 
 ask a Somers that ? Pah ! Keep your 
 Frenchman out of my way, I tell you. One 
 day I shall spit him like a lark 1 "
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOW, WHEN, AND WHERE. 
 
 WHEN I stumbled out of Margaret 
 Eden's presence that day I was 
 as near demented as ever a man was 
 in all this wide world. I hurled myself 
 down the wide stairs just in time to en- 
 counter a slight, dark, handsome young 
 man in the hall. I cast a glance at him 
 thinking that he was the French beggar 
 who had stolen my sweetheart from me, 
 but the fine lacquey who was just at the 
 foot of the stairs turned back to open the 
 door for me with a " One moment, my 
 lord." So I made sure that he was only 
 some gay young spark on a round of visits. 
 So I went from the house bankrupt of 
 all that was good in me. I had said to 
 Margaret's father months before that I 
 meant to have her for my wife. I had 
 flung the Somerses' motto in his teeth and 
 40
 
 How, When, and Where 
 
 flaunted before him the fact that in the 
 Regent's I was known as " the Bulldog." 
 And this was the end of it all ! They had 
 carefully avoided fanning the flame of 
 Margaret's love for me by even the small- 
 est appearance of opposition ; they had 
 acted so as to lull any suspicions which 
 might be lurking in my mind quietly to rest 
 until they got me safely out of the way, 
 with the breadth of the Irish sea between 
 us. And then they had taken her away, 
 had launched her, all young and impres- 
 sionable as she was, upon a sea of fashion, 
 and had given her every opportunity of for- 
 getting her promise and me alike. 
 
 No doubt it was true enough that old 
 Lady Maria had expressed a wish that 
 Margaret and Mrs. Eden should spend the 
 season in London, and that Margaret 
 should be presented, but I had little or no 
 belief that the wish had been a dying one 
 or anything more than a suggestion put 
 forward long before there had been any 
 likelihood of her demise. And in all that 
 they had done they had shielded them- 
 selves behind two things old Lady Maria's
 
 wishes and Squire Eden's stipulation that 
 the little maid should be free of any defi- 
 nite promise to me, if so be that she should 
 change her mind. 
 
 It was not more than three-quarters of a 
 mile from Chesterfield Square to Hammett 
 Street, but, in my rage, I gave no heed to 
 my way and I walked up and down an ap- 
 parently endless succession of streets and 
 squares in a vain endeavor to tramp my- 
 self into composure again. I set my teeth 
 hard and ground them together, while wild 
 vows rose up in my heart that I would be 
 even with the cur who had stolen my sweet- 
 heart. Aye, it was a fine revenge for 
 Waterloo to deprive an Englishman of his 
 maid, and like enough when he got her 
 safely to his estate on the Rhone, he would 
 practise every devilish cruelty upon her 
 that the ingenuity of man could devise, just 
 by way of paying a little of the nation's 
 debt against us. 
 
 The very thought was maddening agony 
 to me. I felt as if I would like to seek out 
 this this Comte and and j ust tread 
 upon him ! And yet I was so helpless, so 
 
 4*
 
 impotent. What could I do ? Margaret 
 was in love with him ! In her happiness 
 she had been cruel enough to speak of our 
 of my love as ' a boy-and-girl affair. ' 
 She had spoken of a lifelong friendship. 
 My God ! As if such a friendship was 
 possible for me ! She was going willingly 
 enough to the estate on the Rhone she 
 was as much lost to me as if all the devils 
 in hell stood between us ! 
 
 At last I found myself, almost by acci- 
 dent, at the door of my aunt's house in 
 Hammett Street, when I suddenly realized 
 that I was spent with fatigue and excite- 
 ment ; so I turned and went in. 
 
 My aunt was just passing through the 
 hall to the dining-room on her way to din- 
 ner, for she proclaimed herself an old-fash- 
 ioned lady, and dined at two o'clock, tak- 
 ing supper at the same hour as we dined 
 at Somersley. I believe that her passion 
 for whist had to do with this, as a cold 
 supper may be a movable feast, while a 
 waiting dinner is most frequently a spoiled 
 one. 
 
 " Is that you, George ? " she said. " You 
 
 43
 
 Grip 
 
 are just in time for dinner. I've got salmon 
 and boiled mutton your favorite dishes." 
 
 She must have sent out purposely to get 
 them, and I followed her into the dining- 
 room, although my very gorge rose at the 
 thought and mention of food. "James," 
 said my aunt to her servant, " you need not 
 wait to-day. Mr. George and I want to be 
 alone." 
 
 The servant arranged the table so that 
 we could help ourselves and then retired. 
 As the door closed behind him Aunt Eliza 
 looked up at me across the cut of steaming 
 salmon and said in a sharp tone of interro- 
 gation" Well ? " 
 
 My answer was a groan. 
 
 "Ah, then you're satisfied that it's all 
 true," she remarked. " I, of course, knew 
 it all along." 
 
 " Then why did you not warn me in the 
 beginning ? " I cried, fiercely. 
 
 " My dear boy, you never confided in 
 me," she replied. " I heard the first news 
 of it from your father, who was here a few 
 days back. He was full of it and of what 
 your disappointment would be. It was the 
 
 44
 
 How, When, and Where 
 
 first that I had heard of it or that you were 
 even thinking about Margaret, the little 
 hussy. But, George, take my advice. I've 
 never been married, but I'm a woman of 
 the world there's no squeamish ness about 
 me. Eat ! Eat ! An empty sack never 
 yet stood upright, and whether you're 
 broken in love or fortune a good stomach- 
 ful will always stand you in good stead. 
 Try this salmon it's as good as one ever 
 gets in London." 
 
 I took the salmon and the boiled mutton, 
 and some apple tart and prime Cheshire 
 cheese which followed, and I certainly felt 
 all the better for them. 
 
 "Now," said Aunt Eliza, when I had 
 come to an end; "now I want to know 
 what you are going to do ? " 
 
 "Kill him," I replied, briefly, for the 
 good dinner, while it had made me physi- 
 cally better, had not in any sense softened 
 my rage. " Kill him ! " I repeated. 
 
 " Good ! " said my aunt. " But the ques- 
 tion is how, when, and where? " 
 
 I looked up in amazement. " Hey ? " I 
 said, puzzled. 
 
 45
 
 Grip 
 
 " Just this ! Because a little hussy has 
 jilted you, and a Frenchman has cheated 
 you, there's no need to ruin your life and 
 bring all your family into disrepute. This 
 Comte de Lancy is a person of considerable 
 importance here, and his position at the 
 Embassy brings him very much into notice ! 
 I suspect that there will be trouble if you 
 challenge him here and happen to kill him." 
 
 " I shall certainly kill him," I put in. 
 
 "I daresay you will," said my aunt, 
 helping herself to some fruit, " and that 
 answers my question of how ? The next 
 question is when ? " 
 
 " As soon as I can get hold of him." 
 
 "No, no; for we have already decided 
 that it must not be managed so as to spoil 
 your prospects," she insisted. " I don't 
 know how far it may be true, but I am told 
 that the duke strongly disapproves of duel- 
 ling." 
 
 " It's true enough," I admitted. 
 
 " Then a duel with a prominent French- 
 man will about cook your goose in that 
 quarter whether it be in England or in 
 France." 
 
 46
 
 How, When, and Where 
 
 " Then," said I, doggedly, leaning back 
 in my chair and keeping my eyes fixed on 
 my glass of port wine ; " then my goose 
 must be cooked, that's all." 
 
 " H'm ! Then that almost disposes of 
 the question of when and where," said my 
 aunt. " George, you'd better give it up." 
 
 " Aunt Eliza, I can't and won't give it 
 up," I said, setting my teeth, and speaking 
 through them. " I had rather give up my 
 life." 
 
 " She's not worth it," said my aunt, de- 
 liberately cracking a nut and dipping it in 
 the salt on the edge of her plate. " But I 
 understand you well enough. I once hated 
 a woman like that. You mean to give up 
 your commission, then ? " She spoke as 
 coolly as if she had said, " Are you going 
 to fill your glass again ? " and her manner 
 was as refreshing to me as if she had put 
 my revenge into my hand without the 
 trouble of seeking it. 
 
 " I must wait till I am of age for that," 
 I said. 
 
 " And your birthday is in September ! 
 Yes, that will give them time to get com- 
 
 47
 
 Grip 
 
 fortably married and settled down on their 
 estate on the Rhone. It seems to be there 
 right enough and that silly Mrs. Eden de- 
 clares that he is very rich, but I daresay 
 they make the most of it. Most likely 
 they will winter in Paris." 
 
 " He will winter in a wanner climate," 
 I snarled. 
 
 My aunt laughed. " Doubtless ! How- 
 ever, we can leave that to chance. Do 
 you mean to confide in your father ? " 
 
 "Not a word," I replied. 
 
 " Then I must keep your counsel ! Then 
 what excuse will you make to him for giv- 
 ing up the Army ? " 
 
 " None. I shall give it up and tell him 
 afterwards. He will but think that I am 
 fickle and have changed my mind, and if 
 he blames Margaret Eden he will all the 
 better understand my situation when I 
 have killed her husband." 
 
 "Good! Well, boy, I'm grieved that 
 your wooing has sped so badly most 
 grieved. But I love a lad to be a lad, and 
 whatever happens you may consider your- 
 self your godmother's heir from this mo- 
 
 48
 
 How, When, and Where 
 
 ment. The money for your few debts you 
 shall have to-morrow, and I'll settle the 
 question of your allowance when we hear 
 what your father's intentions are." 
 
 I put out my hand and took hers, then 
 bent and kissed it. 
 
 " Aunt Eliza," I said, brokenly, " why 
 are you so good so me ? " 
 
 " Tut, boy. I'm your godmother your 
 mother's favorite sister. And, besides 
 that, I've a fellow-feeling with you. Didn't 
 I tell you that I, too, have hated in my 
 time, and do yet for the matter of that, 
 when I happen to think of it, which is not 
 often, thanks be to goodness. Still, hate 
 is a serpent that's hard to kill ; one never 
 knows when there's life in it. Your trou- 
 ble, boy, has told me that this especial 
 serpent of mine is only scotched, not 
 killed, and so I am the more disposed to 
 help you than I should be if I were the 
 old maid some people take me for. I'll 
 stand by you, George here's my hand on 
 it." 
 
 She left me then, being due at a whist- 
 party upstairs. Eleven old ladies, all as 
 
 4 49
 
 Grip 
 
 keen on gaming as herself, had arrived 
 while we were talking, and James came to 
 warn her that coffee and cream was served. 
 
 "Coffee and cream, Aunt Eliza?" I 
 said, in surprise. "What a mixture to 
 play whist on." 
 
 " French cream," said my aunt, with a 
 wink that would have done me no dis- 
 credit. 
 
 She adjusted her turban at the pier-glass 
 ere she left me, and bade me not sit too 
 long. " Remember, you've got an object 
 in keeping your head clear," she said, sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 She was a brave old girl, my Aunt Eliza, 
 and I sat down again with a sigh of relief 
 that she had taken my trouble so well, and 
 in such a spirit of generosity. For, you 
 see, her help would make me free as air to 
 hunt this French rat down, and fight him, 
 whether he would or no. 
 
 I had little or no choice but to sit down 
 with the best grace that I could muster 
 and wait until time and opportunity should 
 deliver mine enemy into my hand. I had 
 but -enough leave of absence to enable me 
 
 5
 
 How, When, and Where 
 
 to stay four days in London ; at the end 
 of that time I must set out upon my return 
 journey, and until I was of age to take 
 the conduct of my affairs entirely into my 
 own hands, I must put in the time in Ire- 
 land and perform my military duties with 
 what zest I could. In September I should 
 be free to throw off the trammels of the 
 profession that I had entered with all the 
 fervor of heart and soul. And then, hey 
 for liberty, equality, and that fraternity 
 which would end in six inches of cold steel 
 for myself or for my enemy the French 
 dog who had got the better of me 1
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A MARKED MAN. 
 
 I SPENT the remainder of my time in 
 London in tracking down the Comte 
 de Lancy. My aim was to make myself 
 well acquainted with his person, so that 
 I might have no difficulty in recognizing 
 him later on, when I should have need of 
 him. 
 
 I found no little difficulty in placing him, 
 for I was a comparative stranger to the 
 great city, and did not know the ways of 
 those who were habitually living there. I 
 could not go in and out of the different 
 clubs saying, " Would you do me the 
 favor to point out the Comte de Lancy, 
 sir ? " I might perchance have hit upon 
 the gentleman himself. And had I not 
 committed quite so maladroit a blunder as 
 that, I might have aroused suspicion in the 
 minds of those whom I addressed, in spite 
 of the uniform that I wore. 
 
 52
 
 A Marked Man 
 
 Besides these considerations I felt strange 
 in the gay world, and like a fish out of 
 water. I was but a soldier engrafted on 
 the nature of a simple country gentleman ; 
 I knew not the ways of life of those around 
 me. They prated a jargon that I barely 
 understood, I was all at sea in the man- 
 ners and modes, and my brother Bob, the 
 dandy Life Guardsman, who might have 
 put me at my ease and told me all the 
 things that I most wanted to know and yet 
 would not ask of a stranger, had, I found, 
 gone away on a few days' leave of absence. 
 So I wandered about the streets, always 
 watching for a sight of one beloved face 
 and hoping to see one near to it which 
 would give me the clue I sought. 
 
 I was too ken-speck myself to venture 
 much in the neighborhood of Chester- 
 field Square, for I did not want to bring 
 myself into contempt with the Eden family, 
 or to do anything which would place me 
 incontestibly in the wrong and so lower 
 me in their eyes, especially hers. I vent- 
 ured into the square on the second even- 
 ing after the dusk had fallen, but I saw 
 
 S3
 
 Grip 
 
 no sign of them. Evidently they were all 
 out junketing. 
 
 As I said I was too ken-speck myself to 
 take any but the most ordinary measures 
 in my searchings. Never a time did I walk 
 down a London street but some juvenile 
 wag would make some remark relative to 
 my great size and height. 
 
 But, at last, just as I was beginning to 
 think that I should have to go back to Ire- 
 land without having marked my man, I 
 saw them I mean Margaret Eden and 
 Comte de Lancy walking along the Hay- 
 market together, and* to my intense sur- 
 prise I found that Comte de Lancy was no 
 other than the man whom I had encoun- 
 tered in the hall at Chesterfield Square, 
 and whom I had heard addressed as "my 
 lord " by Squire Eden's magnificent foot- 
 man. 
 
 They did not perceive me. They had 
 evidently just got out of a carriage which 
 was following at a foot's pace. They were 
 laughing and talking very gayly, and his 
 air of devotion to her was sickeningly ful- 
 some. I understood, if that was the kind 
 
 54
 
 A Marked Man 
 
 of attention she liked, how it was my sim- 
 ple and honest love-making had failed to 
 satisfy her. 
 
 They were so taken up with each other 
 that they never noticed me at least Mar- 
 garet Eden did not perceive me, and he 
 probably had caught so fleeting a glimpse 
 of my person that day in Chesterfield 
 Square that, even had he looked me full in 
 the face, he would not have recognized me. 
 
 They passed into a jeweler's shop, and 
 the spruce carriage with its tall fine horses 
 drew up at the kerb. I stood for a mo- 
 ment watching them through the window. 
 Bah ! the sight was too sickening. To 
 think that a maid who had once loved me 
 could be satisfied for a moment with such 
 a whipper-snapper as this De Lancy! 
 True, he had a handsome face, straight in 
 feature, and brilliant in coloring, but com- 
 pared with me he was a shrimp, a weak- 
 ling, a mere make-believe of a man. 
 
 Doubtless he had been a gay spark 
 enough in his time; he had the appear- 
 ance of it, but the over-profusion of his 
 manner, the vehemence of his gestures, 
 
 55
 
 Grip 
 
 and the elaborate care which had been be- 
 stowed on his toilet, all combined to create 
 an unmanliness which was abhorrent to 
 me, as it ought to have been to any York- 
 shire lass trained from her cradle to the 
 appreciation of every healthy and manly 
 pursuit. 
 
 I watched them long enough for their 
 coquetries to fill my very soul with loath- 
 ing, and to impress my fine gentleman's 
 face indelibly upon my memory, and then 
 I tore myself away from the window and 
 swung away towards Pall Mall. I hated 
 them, myself, London and every one in it, 
 and my whole soul was filled by one feel- 
 ing only, a savage hunger and thirst for 
 revenge revenge revenge ! 
 
 The next morning I bade good-bye to 
 my aunt and set out upon my return jour- 
 ney. Her parting words rang in my ears 
 as I went. " Remember," she said, as I 
 kissed her for the last time, " that you have 
 an object. Live by line and rule, so that 
 you shall be in perfect condition both of 
 mind and body when your time comes. 
 He has no such incentive his life during 
 
 56
 
 A Marked Man 
 
 the next three months will be one of self- 
 indulgence and holiday-making. Pay all 
 your debts as soon as you are settled in 
 your quarters, and keep your living, while 
 you are waiting, as economical as you can. 
 You will want all your money. I have 
 been buying the bride's wedding-gift this 
 this morning. I bought what I thought 
 would be appropriate a sachet lined with 
 peau d'Espagne, and holding a dozen finely- 
 embroidered handkerchiefs. She," signifi- 
 cantly, " will want 'em ! " 
 
 I laughed fiercely, and it was with that 
 picture of desolation and widowhood in my 
 mind's eye that I turned my back upon the 
 great town which held my darling, who was 
 on the eve of marriage with another. 
 
 My aunt wrote to me when the sacrifice 
 was completed. In my interests she had 
 accepted the invitation to the wedding, 
 and was indeed the only member of my 
 family who was present, not because of 
 any feeling for me, but because those in 
 Yorkshire never thought of making so long 
 a journey on purpose, and my two brothers 
 who passed most of their lives in London 
 
 57
 
 Grip 
 
 were both engaged elsewhere on that day. 
 My doughty old aunt, however, went as a 
 matter of principle, and, I should say, 
 gloated over the sorrow not far ahead for 
 the pretty bride if, that is, her letters to 
 me were any criterion of the state of her 
 feelings. 
 
 Among other items of news that I gath- 
 ered from her was the announcement of the 
 fact that the Comte and Comtesse de Lancy 
 were going abroad within a few days of the 
 marriage, first to visit the estate on the 
 Rhone and then to spend the winter in Paris. 
 
 I smiled to myself a grim and mirthless 
 smile, remembering that I, too, was des- 
 tined to spend the winter in Paris or part 
 of it. 
 
 It was almost winter when I found my- 
 self free of all English trammels and ready 
 to start for France, with the price of my 
 commission safely lodged in my bank, 
 which, with my quarterly allowance from 
 my father and a gift of a hundred pounds 
 from my aunt, made a very tidy feeling of 
 security for me. So well provided for, I 
 had no compunction in equipping myself 
 
 58
 
 A Marked Man 
 
 as a man of moderate fashion, so that I 
 might go from the first into such society as 
 would sooner or later bring me in contact 
 with my enemy. 
 
 I wrote a letter of farewell to my father ; 
 told him that I had sold out of the Army ; 
 that I was going abroad for reasons of a 
 purely personal kind ; begged him not to 
 be uneasy about me, and assured him that 
 I would write home from time to time. I 
 begged him to excuse me if I seemed want- 
 ing in respect in not having gone down to 
 Yorkshire to bid him and my family fare- 
 well, and pleaded as my reason considera- 
 tion for the expense of the journey. Then 
 I bade good-bye to my aunt, and set off on 
 my quest. And surely never did knight 
 of old set out on holy mission with more 
 zeal and fervor in his heart than I set out 
 from my native country in order that I 
 might hunt down even to the very death 
 the man who had stolen my best beloved 
 the maid of my heart from me. It 
 might be thought that the months which 
 had gone by would have somewhat softened 
 my hatred ; but, on the contrary, in reality 
 
 59
 
 Grip 
 
 they seemed rather to have inflamed my 
 passion. Looking back, it seems to me 
 now that I had almost forgotten my lost 
 love in my hatred of the thief who had 
 stolen her from me. It is no exaggeration 
 to say that I would at any moment cheer- 
 fully have given my life in order to be able 
 to cry quits with the man who had wronged 
 me. 
 
 You will smile, perhaps, as you read 
 these lines, but my first feeling after I found 
 myself in Paris was one of intense home- 
 sickness. The strange ways, the foreign 
 faces and figures, and, above all, the alto- 
 gether unintelligible jabbering voices, all 
 combined to make me feel like an outcast 
 and an alien. In a certain sense I was 
 both, but still I had gone of my own free 
 will, in pursuit of my own interests entirely. 
 I was free to leave it if I chose, at my own 
 time and in my own way, and yet I was 
 possessed of a feeling as if a vice of iron 
 had caught me, and I was powerless to 
 struggle against its merciless grip. 
 
 I found it more difficult than I expected 
 to make my way into society. I had confi- 
 60
 
 A Marked Man 
 
 dently anticipated that, with my introduc- 
 tions, I should find all Paris open to me, 
 as I should have found all London but it 
 was not so. 
 
 I could have had all the English society 
 to be found in Paris, if not exactly at my 
 feet, certainly at my service, but I very 
 soon found that the De Lancy family that 
 is to say, Comte de Lancy's mother and 
 sisters did not go very much into the Eng- 
 lish society, but almost entirely confined 
 themselves to intercourse with French 
 people. 
 
 At that time we English were none too 
 popular with Parisians, and many host- 
 esses were averse to receiving Englishmen. 
 Those who did receive me could not under- 
 stand me, nor I them, and before I had 
 been in Paris six weeks I was forced to 
 the unpleasant conclusion that before I 
 could hope to meet De Lancy on terms of 
 complete equality I must make myself 
 familiar with his detestable language ! 
 
 Not that I was in the least turned from 
 my purpose. I might have to wait for 
 years ; for although I was in Paris, his own 
 61
 
 Grip 
 
 capital, yet I did not meet him. It was as 
 if he was hedged about with all manner of 
 sheltering circumstances ; it was almost as 
 if he knew of my intention, and was keep- 
 ing purposely out of my way. 
 
 But, mind you, De Lancy had the reputa- 
 tion of being no coward. He had also 
 the name of being one of the best swords- 
 men in France, and of having killed his 
 man several times. It was this reputa- 
 tion which made me so eager to meet him 
 on strictly equal terms, to meet him in 
 his own world ; and then then well, time 
 would decide the rest for both of us, 
 
 I set myself a-studying the French lan- 
 guage, and much as I hated it and despised 
 and loathed its twists and turns, I kept 
 doggedly at it, having always my end in 
 view. I put myself also under the finest 
 fencing-master in all Paris, one M. Brisso, 
 who put me up to every trick of the game, 
 and, moreover, complimented me not sel- 
 dom on my strength and skill. I worked 
 as hard at fencing as I did at French, 
 and with more zest. The acquisition of 
 French was only a means to an end : the 
 62
 
 A Marked Man 
 
 study of fencing was almost the end 
 itself. 
 
 Another month went by. Every time 
 that I went into the fencing-school I 
 came out the more perfected in the art, 
 but even though I was taking a lesson 
 every day and writing exercises, and learn- 
 ing phrases like a schoolboy, I scarce 
 made any progress in the language, and the 
 babel of voices around me was as undis- 
 tinguishable as it had been on my arrival 
 in Paris. 
 
 So another month went by, and yet 
 another. I could speak a few phrases, 
 such as would ask for the bare necessaries 
 of life, and I had learned to clap my heels 
 together and bend myself double on oc- 
 casion as I noticed the Frenchmen did, but 
 I seemed to be little or no nearer to my 
 object. 
 
 I did ask one or two Englishmen whose 
 acquaintance I made if they knew De 
 Lancy, but it so happened that none of 
 them were personally acquainted with him, 
 though each knew him by reputation. 
 Then, at last, I heard the news by a side 
 
 63
 
 Grip 
 
 wind that he was in the south somewhere, 
 delayed by the illness of his wife, who was 
 suffering from some kind of fever, but that 
 the lady was better, and that they would 
 presently be at the hotel in Paris which 
 he had but lately bought with his wife's 
 dower, I have no doubt. 
 
 Oh, well, there was no hurry. Every 
 day I was picking up more of his language, 
 and every lesson that I took in the school 
 of M. Brisso so served to make me a more 
 dangerous antagonist. And then some- 
 thing happened to me which made a 
 difference. 
 
 I was sitting one day at dinner in the 
 cafe' at which I took most of my meals, 
 when I noticed three ruffianly-looking 
 fellows sitting hard by, all jabbering one 
 against another as if they were at a talking- 
 match and he that could talk down the 
 others would win. I paid but little heed 
 to them, for gentry of that kind had but 
 small value for me, and these were espe- 
 cially unsavory, both in looks and man- 
 ners. 
 
 They were not a little interested in me, 
 
 64
 
 A Marked Man 
 
 for I saw first one and then another steal 
 furtive glances at me, and at length one 
 of them rose from the table and ap- 
 proached me. " Sir," he said, " you are 
 Engleesh ; could you oblige me with the 
 direction of Mistaire John Drummond ? " 
 
 ' I am sorry, sir," I replied, " that I do 
 not know the gentleman." 
 
 " He lives in London, somewhere " 
 
 "I am sorry, sir," I said, civilly. 
 " London is a big place, and I do not 
 know it well." 
 
 " Pardon, if I derange you," said he, 
 fawningly. Then looked hard at me again. 
 " Pardon, m'sieu, but have I the honnaire 
 to address Mistaire Henri Clare ? 
 
 "No sir; that is not my name," I re- 
 plied. 
 
 "You call it Clare or Clar ck?" he 
 persisted. 
 
 " There is such a name as Clark in Eng- 
 land," I replied. 
 
 " Clar ck ! Ah, yes. Henri Clar ck," 
 he repeated. 
 
 I rose from my seat I had already 
 paid my bill and took my gloves, hat, 
 
 65
 
 Grip 
 
 and cane. "Good-night to you, sir," I 
 said, rather curtly. 
 
 I did not know what the beggar meant 
 to be at, but I knew that it would not suit 
 my book to be mixed up with any ruffians 
 of his breed. I therefore deemed it best 
 to cut it short and clear out of the place. 
 
 I walked away at a good pace down the 
 street, but had barely turned the corner 
 when I heard a tramp of feet behind me 
 and felt a heavy hand clapped on my 
 shoulder, and the next moment I was sur- 
 rounded by a poss<> of policemen. 
 
 66
 
 In The Toils 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN THE TOILS. 
 
 WHEN I found myself surrounded 
 by French policemen, all moved 
 with the evident intention of arresting 
 me, I abandoned myself to my nat- 
 ural instincts, and fought like a bulldog 
 for my liberty. I had not been born 
 in Yorkshire, and of a good old York- 
 shire stock, for nothing. I was in fine 
 condition, and I had never addled my 
 head by over-drinking. I laid about me 
 with my fists for I could not get at the 
 pistol which I always carried about me 
 and, in a trice, four Frenchmen were 
 sprawling on the pavement at my feet. I 
 fought my hardest ; but though they were 
 at least twenty to one they had not the 
 courage to fight fair. They were the same 
 stuff, these Frenchmen, as those who but a 
 few years before had driven the women, 
 
 67
 
 Grip 
 
 aye and the little children, of the noblesse 
 to the scaffold, and had absolutely wal- 
 lowed in the lust of bloodshed. I knew 
 enough of their language to catch a mean- 
 ing sometimes, and I heard the sergeant in 
 charge of the party tell one of the men at 
 the side of me to trip me up. I flung 
 prudence to the winds and turned on my 
 fine gentleman, seizing him by the throat 
 with both hands and fairly cracking his 
 skull against the wall. He had not so 
 much as a yell left in him when I let him 
 drop to the ground, but I then, being at a 
 disadvantage, was immediately overpowered 
 and flung helplessly down. It was no 
 use wasting my strength in further useless 
 strivings ; they had got the better of me, 
 the brutes, and I knew that I should only 
 be the loser by not submitting. So I, in 
 less than half an hour, found myself lodged 
 in what proved afterwards to be the filthi- 
 est hole I had ever seen swarming with 
 vermin, foul in smell, dank and damp as 
 an underground cellar. Herein I was 
 thrust without light, food, or water, and the 
 door was bolted and barred behind me. 
 
 68
 
 In The Toils 
 
 Like most other men of my station, I 
 carried a little tinder-box in my pocket, 
 and I managed to get a light which would 
 show me what manner of place I was in. 
 Furniture there was none, a bundle of 
 damp-straw in one corner being all the 
 provision that had been made for sleeping. 
 I went over to it and sat down, then my 
 light went out, and I knew that I could 
 do nothing more beyond waiting till morn- 
 ing. 
 
 I was a little stiff from my tussle, and 
 my dinner having been a highly spiced 
 one, I was very soon raging with thirst. 
 However, there was no help for that save 
 patience, and I passed the night as best I 
 could : and, at length, the sickly winter 
 dawn began to steal slowly through the 
 bars of the windows. 
 
 I do not know to this day what prison I 
 was in, for when at last a jailer appeared, 
 bringing with him a long roll of bread 
 and a jug of water, I found that he only 
 spoke a patois of which not one word in 
 twenty was intelligible to me. So, though 
 I put the question to him in the best 
 69
 
 Grip 
 
 French that I could muster, I both failed 
 to understand him and to make him 
 understand me. 
 
 Later in the morning I was taken before 
 some kind of court. I do not know what 
 court it was, where it was situated, or who 
 were my judges. I was told chiefly by 
 signs where to go, and certain remarks 
 were read out to me in a sing-song nasal 
 voice of which I comprehended the mean- 
 ing no better than I should have done had 
 they been spoken in Chinese. All that I 
 gathered was the fact that I was supposed 
 to be one Henry Clark, who was, poor 
 devil, evidently much in request by the 
 Paris police at that moment. I protested 
 vigorously that I was not Henry Clark, 
 and that I had never heard of any such 
 person, though I recognized the name as 
 an English one. 
 
 Upon this I was hustled back to my cell, 
 and later on my dinner was brought to me, 
 consisting of dark-looking bread and sus- 
 piciously pale soup. I had never been 
 over-much given to eating soup, but by that 
 time I was hungry enough to have eaten 
 70
 
 In The Toils 
 
 anything, so I made the best meal that I 
 could under the circumstances. 
 
 My situation did not much trouble me, 
 for I knew that I could easily disprove 
 the assertion that I was Henry Clark, 
 and my innocence of whatever he hap- 
 pened to be suspected of. Then it sud- 
 denly occurred to me that if I chanced to 
 have hit the head of that policeman a 
 trifle too hard against the wall, I might be 
 let in for a few years of exceedingly un- 
 pleasant life on that account, while, in the 
 event of such becoming known, all idea of 
 ever meeting De Lancy on equal grounds 
 would be at an end forever. On equal 
 grounds ! pooh ; on grounds of any sort. 
 De Lancy was an aristocrat, a man high 
 up in the diplomatic world. He would 
 not meet me at all, and he would be per- 
 fectly justified in his refusal to do so. 
 
 I had little or no hope of altogether get- 
 ting off the consequences of my hothead- 
 edness. The feeling at that time of day 
 all over France, and particularly in Paris, 
 was very strong against the English, and 
 not without good reason. I had killed, or
 
 Grip 
 
 half-killed one of the gens de police while in 
 the execution of his duty, and whether I 
 was Henry Clark, or George Somers, or 
 anybody else, I was scarcely likely to 
 entirely escape the consequences of my 
 folly. 
 
 I remained in my cell for several days, 
 being fed as badly as I well could be. 
 Then I was conducted through a great 
 many long passages to a cell of a rather 
 better description, in which was a chair, a 
 pallet-bed, and a wash-basin. 
 
 Before I had been an hour in occupa- 
 tion of this new quarters I had a visitor, 
 a small, weazened, meagre-looking elderly 
 man, who addressed me in fluent English 
 but of indifferent accent. He told me he 
 was a permitted interpreter and lawyer, 
 and asked me whether I would like to 
 make use of him in my approaching ex- 
 amination. 
 
 I told him civilly that I did not know 
 that I was soon to be examined, thanked 
 him for his intentions, and asked him, fair 
 and square, what he would be able to do 
 to help me ? 
 
 72
 
 In The Toils 
 
 He told me in a low voice that I was 
 believed to be Henry Clark, which I 
 promptly and indignantly denied. 
 
 " You 'ave your papers ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes ; I have," I replied. 
 
 " You can make your identification cer- 
 tain ? " he said, looking at me with his 
 little red-rimmed eyes, as if my answer was 
 a foregone conclusion. 
 
 " I can, if I choose," I replied. 
 
 " But if you don't choose eh ? " 
 
 " I don't understand you," I said, blunt- 
 
 iy. 
 
 " It is very easy," he said, speaking in a 
 tone of quiet conviction. " You 'ave not 
 shown your papers ? " 
 
 " No ; I have not got them with me. 
 They are at my rooms." 
 
 "Ah ! " The single word spoke volumes. 
 " And you do not wish to produce them ? " 
 
 " I don't intend to produce them." 
 
 " You will 'ave a great punishment for 
 cracking the 'ead of the unfortunate Jean 
 Duval," he said, quietly. 
 
 "I expect I shall. I'll put up with 
 that." 
 
 73
 
 Grip 
 
 " But the affair of this Henri Clark that 
 is quite another mattaire eh ? " 
 
 " Well, naturally, I find my own sins 
 quite enough to answer for," I said, trying 
 to laugh, for, somehow, his words all at 
 once seemed to bring the full gravity of my 
 situation home to me. 
 
 "Just so. And you would give some- 
 thing for papers which would give you 
 identification eh ? " 
 
 " I would give all that I have," I replied, 
 without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " And you 'ave eh ? " 
 
 I pulled out my purse and emptied its 
 contents on to the poor table before us. 
 My new friend counted the money over, 
 and put it up together into a little packet 
 in one of the notes. "See to this, my 
 good friend," he said, in quiet business- 
 like tones. " I 'ave the honor to be inter- 
 preter in the courts. I always do business 
 if I can on both sides when it comes my 
 way. 'Ere are papers Charles 'Yde all 
 complete ; but stay, 'ave you told your 
 name ? " 
 
 " No ! They insisted that I was Henry 
 
 74
 
 In The Toils 
 
 Clark, and beyond insisting that I was not 
 I have not committed myself. I cannot 
 understand their lingo nor, apparently, 
 they mine. They never asked me what 
 my name was, or if they did I did not un- 
 derstand them." 
 
 " Good ! Then take this paper it is 
 safe Charles 'Yde is dead, gone to his 
 reward, poor devil. Be Charles 'Yde from 
 this moment." 
 
 I took the paper and read it carefully. 
 It was dated but a few days later than my 
 own passport. It set forth that Charles 
 Hyde was twenty-five years of age, and 
 was a gentleman travelling for pleasure ! 
 Poor devil, as my ferret-eyed little friend 
 had but just called him his pleasuring 
 had soon come to an end. I had not the 
 heart to inquire how ! 
 
 I pushed the little packet of money to- 
 wards him and put the passport into my 
 own pocket-book. " Sir," I said, " I am 
 more obliged to you than words can say. 
 Will you give me your name and address 
 that I may repay you in some way after I 
 am free of this place ? " 
 
 75
 
 Grip 
 
 "This is my name Jules Ferrand," he 
 replied, giving me a card bearing his name 
 and address. 
 
 I took the card with a word of thanks 
 and put it in my pocket. Then I asked him 
 if he thought he could help me otherwise ? 
 
 "If you were not Engleesh," he said, 
 in a tone which carried conviction with 
 it, " I should say yes, most decidedly 
 yes ; as you are Engleesh I can but say 
 that I am afraid you will 'ave " 
 
 " Yes, I know," I said, impatiently. " I 
 must abide by the consequences of my own 
 folly. Will you be present at this exami- 
 nation ? " 
 
 " But, yes " 
 
 "Then " and here I heard the key 
 
 turn in the lock, " you will do what you 
 can for me ? " 
 
 " I will make it clear that you are not 
 1 Enri Clark,' " he said, with a leer and 
 a wink, which all at once revealed to me 
 that he believed that I really was the un- 
 fortunate man for whom I had been mis- 
 taken. 
 
 He left me, passing out with profuse 
 76
 
 In The Toils 
 
 salutations to the exceedingly morose and 
 unintelligible jailer who took care of me, 
 and once more I was left alone. 
 
 Well, I had by a lucky chance fallen in 
 with a villain who thought more of his own 
 pocket than he did of his national prej- 
 udices, and my identity was fairly safe. 
 Moreover, as Charles Hyde I was no 
 longer liable for the sins of Henry Clark, 
 and I should stand a better chance for the 
 skull-cracking in which I had foolishly in- 
 dulged myself. As Charles Hyde I might 
 be supposed to object to the process of 
 arrest, and be treated more lightly for 
 resisting it ! Time would show. 
 
 In my new cell I had the immense ad- 
 vantage of being able to wash myself, and 
 I availed myself of it with great satisfac- 
 tion. So by the time my examination came 
 on I was able to present myself with a fairly 
 clean and respectable appearance. 
 
 Almost the first person that I saw when 
 I got into the court was my new friend, M. 
 Jules Ferrand. He did not pay much at- 
 tention to me, doing indeed no more than 
 looking my way once or twice with his little 
 
 77
 
 Grip 
 
 red-rimmed eyes. But, after a while, when 
 a good deal of gabbling had gone on be- 
 tween the various officials who reminded 
 me more of a crowd of dogs fighting over a 
 bone than anything else he stood up, and, 
 taking his questions from an official, who 
 was, I imagine, an advocate, addressed me 
 directly. 
 
 " Your name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Charles Hyde," I returned, boldly. 
 
 " 'Ave you papers of identification ? " 
 
 " Yes. I have a passport." 
 
 " Produce it, if you please." 
 
 I took out my pocket-book and handed 
 the passport to him. 
 
 " M. le President wishes to know why 
 you did not produce this before ? " 
 
 " I was not asked for it, or if I was, I did 
 not understand the question. I only know 
 a few words of French." 
 
 " What brought you to Paris ? " 
 
 " My pleasure and a desire to acquaint 
 myself thoroughly with the French lan- 
 guage." 
 
 " You understand now with what you are 
 charged in this court ? " 
 
 78
 
 In The Toils 
 
 " Not in the very least." 
 
 " First with being one Henri Clar-ck " 
 
 " I am not Henry Clark," I thundered. 
 " I don't know him, never saw him, never 
 heard of him. My name is Hyde Charles 
 Hyde." 
 
 After a lot more gabbling, he continued, 
 " The charge for which you were arrested 
 under the mistaken impression that you 
 were one and the same person as Henri 
 Clar-ck is withdrawn. You had better 
 thank M. le President for his clemency in 
 accepting your identification." 
 
 I could not for the very life and soul of 
 me see that I had anything to thank M. le 
 President for; rather ought he to have 
 apologized to me for his myrmidons having 
 mistaken me. However, I was not so anx- 
 ious to further taste the pains and penal- 
 ties of a French prison ; so I promptly made 
 a speech of thankfulness, which was, I 
 thought, sufficiently mealy-mouthed to sat- 
 isfy even the dignified old gentleman sitting 
 in the place of honor so like the church- 
 warden's pew at Somersley. 
 
 " M. le President is graciously pleased to
 
 Grip 
 
 accept your expressions of gratitude," Jules 
 Ferrand continued in unctuous accents. 
 " You may consider your identification com- 
 plete. Therefore the only charge against 
 you at present is that of having caused the 
 death of Jean Duval, one of the gens de 
 police, while in the execution of his duty. 
 On that account you will have to await trial 
 until such date as will be made known to 
 you later on."
 
 Suspense 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SUSPENSE ! 
 
 I WAS thereupon conducted back to my 
 cell with the pleasant prospect of stay- 
 ing there in complete ignorance of my ulti- 
 mate fate for an indefinite period. Later 
 in the day Jules Ferrand again came to see 
 me. 
 
 " I 'ave to congratulate you," he said, 
 cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. 
 
 " And I to thank you, sir," I replied, very 
 heartily, and I held out my hand in the 
 English fashion towards him. 
 
 He laid his hand in mine, but the next 
 moment tore it away, shaking his fingers 
 and uttering short yelps of pain and dismay. 
 I perceived that I had shaken hands a bit 
 too hard, and hastened to apologize for my 
 carelessness with all penitence. 
 
 " I am so sorry. I forgot that you were 
 not an Englishman ! " I exclaimed, trying 
 6 81
 
 Grip 
 
 to take his limp fingers to make certain that 
 I had not really crushed them. 
 
 "Man Dieu ! No wonder you cracked 
 the skull of Jean Duval," he gasped, still 
 shaking his fingers frantically, and then 
 breathing on them, as if a sort of poultice 
 of warm breath would be beneficial to them. 
 " No no my good sir, I will keep my 
 fingers to myself, if you please." 
 
 At last, however, he seemed to have got 
 over the accident, and was then able to give 
 his attention to my unfortunate situation. 
 
 " You must not look to getting off alto- 
 gether," he said, warningly. 
 
 " I suppose not," I returned. 
 
 " If you were not Engleesh it would be easy. 
 As you are Engleesh, you must expect, bien t 
 the results of national prejudice to stand 
 somewhat against you." 
 
 " All right," said I, for I did not want 
 to enter into an argument as to national 
 prejudice with this little rat who, after all, 
 if his nose went for anything, was of the 
 French race only by adoption ; and would, 
 indeed, like his fore-elder, Esau, have 
 been ready to sell his own birthright as he 
 82
 
 Suspense 
 
 had sold someone else's passport, for a con- 
 sideration otherwise a mess of pottage. 
 " How long will they keep me hanging about 
 here, do you think ? " 
 
 " Ah ! 'ow can I say ? But you can 
 
 buy things for yourself. You can 'ave 
 your repasts sent in from outside." 
 
 " If I pay for 'em, " I said. " Unfortu- 
 nately, I have no money with me." 
 
 " Could I get you some ? Can you trust 
 me ? " he began, eagerly ; but I cut him 
 short at once. I was not going to trust the 
 secret of my identity to him. Heaven alone 
 knew what he might not make of it. 
 
 " It is impossible," I said, curtly " quite 
 impossible. I can promise you this, on the 
 word and honor of an English gentleman . . . 
 if I get free of this business, I will give you 
 one hundred pounds in cash within three 
 days of my release." 
 
 His little red-rimmed eyes glistened, but 
 the next moment a shadow fell over them 
 and he shook his head. " I fear it is 'ope- 
 less," he said, dolefully. " I do my best. 
 I 'ate to 'alf serve a client. I do my best 
 but I doubt ! " 
 
 83
 
 Grip 
 
 He left me then, promising to return. 
 The next day he came back again offering 
 to lend me a little ready money, to be paid 
 back later at an utterly exorbitant rate of 
 interest. 
 
 I declined the offer, not on account of 
 the interest for it was a case in which 
 money was well worth any rate of interest 
 but, as I explained to him, because I 
 was not certain that I should ever be able 
 to pay it back again. 
 
 " Sir," said the little man, with an air of 
 dignity which sat strangely on him, " I 'ave 
 already done you good service. Is it that 
 you cannot trust me ? " 
 
 " Not at all. But it is imperative that I 
 disclose my own name to no one at present, 
 or, indeed, while connected with this matter. 
 If I could do that, and could write you a 
 cheque on my bank, it would be easy. But 
 that course is simply impossible. I would 
 rather die than let my friends either in 
 England or in Paris trace me to this place. 
 If I get away clear of this little accident, I 
 will keep my word and you in grateful re- 
 membrance all my life. As it is, I prefer to 
 84
 
 Suspense 
 
 remain in comparative discomfort rather 
 than to upset all the plans of my life." 
 
 He left me then. I believe he was firmly 
 convinced that I really was Henry Clark, 
 and that I dared not draw a cheque for 
 fear of being traced, and my crimes real 
 or suspected, whichever they might be 
 brought home to me. Well, let him think 
 so. There was safety to my schemes in 
 the suspicion. I said not one word which 
 might dispel the impression. 
 
 I walked up and down the narrow confines 
 of my cell for a long time after he had left 
 me. It was wretched and comfortless, and 
 the food was worse, but, after all, what real 
 difference did mere food and lodging make 
 to me in comparison with the great revenge 
 for which I lived ? None ! 
 
 You may think that, placed as I was in a 
 situation of the gravest danger, my feeling 
 towards Comte de Lancy and Margaret 
 would have faded in intensity. My life was 
 at this time in gravest danger, my liberty 
 was gone and might never be restored again. 
 I was caught like a rat in a trap and was at 
 the mercy of those who were my national 
 
 85
 
 Grip 
 
 and most bitter enemies. And yet yet 
 I thought of it all with comparative indiffer- 
 ence, and if my feeling towards De Lancy 
 had changed at all, it was that my hatred 
 had flourished in the shade of misfortune, 
 and my hunger and thirst for the equality 
 of complete revenge had grown from a weak- 
 ling into a giant. Was I, a great strong 
 hulking fellow, with the constitution of an 
 elephant and the digestion of an ostrich, 
 who had spent half my life in some form 
 of training or other, to endanger my most 
 cherished schemes and desires for the sake 
 of procuring something soft to lie upon, 
 for the sake of dainties for my belly? 
 Pooh ! At the thought of it I laughed 
 aloud, till the bare walls of my cell echoed 
 again. 
 
 It seemed a long time ere any fresh break 
 came in the monotony of my existence. I 
 had no change of any kind, excepting that 
 sometimes I was allowed to go out into a 
 small yard, whose walls were so high that 
 it seemed like looking up to Heaven out of 
 a well. I could hear the shouts of other 
 prisoners, but could not distinguish a single 
 86
 
 Suspense 
 
 word they said, only that they seemed to be 
 playing at some game and quarrelling, and 
 certainly swearing above the ordinary. 
 However, I made the best of my scrap of 
 liberty, and walked and ran as regularly as 
 if I were a free man, and half a dozen times 
 a day at least I went through a series of 
 exercises such as I knew would best keep 
 my muscles hard and my nerve in tone. 
 No matter what might happen in the im- 
 mediate future, I did not want to meet it 
 feeling flabby and unmanned. 
 
 At last Jules Ferrand came again to see 
 me. He told me that my trial was fixed at 
 last for April 10 ; that he would do his best 
 for me, but that I was to be prepared for 
 the worst which might happen. 
 
 " Do you mean the guillotine ?" I asked, 
 bluntly, for the way in which the little man 
 wrapped up his meaning in ambiguous 
 phrases irritated me not a little. 
 
 " No, not so bad as that or I 'ope not," 
 he replied. " But you will probably go to 
 the Bagne you will 'ave the travaux forch , 
 and the life of a format is by no means a 
 joke." 
 
 87
 
 Grip 
 
 A joke ! I should think not. Yet not 
 even the taste I had already had of prison 
 deterred me from my purpose, or for one 
 moment tempted me to use such influence 
 as I possessed in obtaining any mitigation 
 of the punishment which probably was in 
 store for me. To exert that influence I 
 should have to expose myself to the chance 
 of De Lancy's refusing to meet me it was 
 a risk which I would not have run to save 
 myself any pain or discomfort that could 
 possibly befall me. 
 
 Jules Ferrand sounded me again as to 
 the chance of my finding money " There 
 are ways of slipping bolts and unlocking 
 doors," he said, knowingly; but I reso- 
 lutely shook my head. 
 
 "You mean that my jailers might be 
 bribed," I said, coldly. " I daresay they 
 could, and if escape was my only object 
 we might try it. As it is, it is necessary 
 for me to remain in Paris after I am free. 
 In my own name nobody will suspect me 
 of any connection with Charles Hyde. If 
 the police were after me I should never 
 know an easy moment, and all my plans
 
 Suspense 
 
 might be frustrated just at the moment 
 when all was going according to my best 
 wishes. Thank you very much for the 
 suggestion, but I would prefer to let things 
 take their natural course." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders as if he 
 thought me the biggest fool he had ever 
 met in the whole course of his life. Pos- 
 sibly, as his knowledge of French prison- 
 life was more extensive than mine for his 
 way of making a living was such as would 
 naturally bring him very much in contact 
 with those whom we describe as " in 
 trouble " he would have foregone any un- 
 certain chance of revenge and have thought 
 only of his own precious skin. I, however, 
 was made of different stuff. I meant to 
 have De Lancy's blood sooner or later, and 
 I had not been nicknamed " The Bulldog " 
 for nothing, I had not been born in York- 
 shire for nothing, I had not been born a 
 Somers of Somersley for nothing ! 
 
 There was good in the little Hebrew, all 
 
 the same ; he was not entirely wanting in 
 
 the milk of human-kindness. I daresay he 
 
 looked to his own interests first most of 
 
 89
 
 Grip 
 
 us do only some of us are less openly 
 egotistical in doing it than others. He 
 was, I do think, genuinely anxious to see 
 me get off scot-free, apart from any advan- 
 tage that it might be to him personally. 
 That morning he looked me up and down 
 with something very like admiration in his 
 little red-rimmed eyes. " You are a fine 
 fellow to go to the JBagne" he said, shak- 
 ing his head ruefully. " Theforfats have 
 mostly led different lives to yours." 
 
 " I am not a format yet," I returned, try- 
 ing to speak lightly and not succeeding so 
 well as I could have wished, for his regret- 
 ful tone seemed like a foreshadowing of 
 ill-luck. 
 
 " No no and I 'ope to 'ave that 'un- 
 dred pounds yet ! " he exclaimed, clapping 
 me on the shoulder. 
 
 I hoped so too, and with all my heart. 
 Still I must confess that I thought his 
 chance of it was remarkably slender. I 
 could not pretend that I had not killed the 
 unfortunate policeman, while in the execu- 
 tion of his duty, I could only plead that the 
 affair was an accident, inasmuch as I had 
 90
 
 Suspense 
 
 no intention of killing him and no desire 
 to do so ; that I had unfortunately hap- 
 pened, in the heat of an undeserved arrest, 
 and in the scrimmage of twenty to one, to 
 knock his head a little harder against the 
 wall than it would stand. The blame of 
 the accident really lay more at the door of 
 Jean Duval's thinness of skull than of any 
 fault of mine. I felt that my case was 
 good ; the only thing was that, being an 
 Englishman, the excuse might not serve. 
 
 At last the day of my trial came. I had 
 been hoping all along that it would not 
 attract much notice, and that nobody in 
 court would recognize me as the big Eng- 
 lishman who had been seen about Paris 
 and especially at Brisso's fencing-school 
 for several months past. 
 
 Thus far I soon perceived that I was in 
 luck's way. I scanned the court eagerly, 
 but not one familiar face did I see. There 
 was not a single soul that I knew. 
 
 You will think that I am giving but a 
 meagre account of the proceedings ; but 
 in truth, they do not bear much upon my 
 story, and, although of necessity I was 
 
 9 1
 
 Grip 
 
 present at my trial, I could make neither 
 head nor tail of what was going on. Dur- 
 ing the weeks which I had spent in prison 
 my little stock of French had all gone from 
 me, for my second jailer was a no more 
 amiable person than the first, and he spoke 
 an entirely different dialect, so that I had 
 found communication with him difficult, 
 and conversation impossible. The lan- 
 guage used in the court might have been, 
 and probably was, of the purest Parisian 
 French it was as Greek to me. Greek 
 did I say ? I meant Arabic. 
 
 So I spent several hours quite in the 
 dark as to what was going on, excepting 
 when my friend Ferrand put certain ques- 
 tions to me, which I answered as plainly 
 and simply as I could. He made a kind 
 of speech in which I fancy he set forth the 
 extenuating circumstances which were ad- 
 missible, and then there came a long hor- 
 rible blank period of waiting for the verdict.
 
 For Love of Woman 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FOR LOVE OF WOMAN. 
 
 WHEN the moment for hearing my 
 doom came, the President of the 
 Court distinctly addressed me. "Charles 
 Hyde ! " he said. 
 
 I stood upright, in an attitude of re- 
 spectful attention, though I did not com- 
 prehend one word of what he was saying. 
 When he had finished, my friend, Jules 
 Ferrand, translated his words into Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 " Charles 'Yde," he said " you - ave 
 been adjudged guilty of the death of the 
 gens de police, Jean Duval, while in the ex- 
 ecution of his duty. As you 'ave proved 
 to the satisfaction of the court that you 
 were arrested in mistake for another per- 
 son, and were not unnaturally incensed 
 thereat, you will be treated with an extraor- 
 dinary leniency, and it is to be 'oped that 
 
 93
 
 Grip 
 
 you will value this clemency as you ought 
 to do. The court awards you fifteen years 
 of the travaux fords" 
 
 Fifteen years -fifteen years ! My God ! 
 what a slice out of my life ! My head went 
 reeling round and round for a minute or 
 two and a thick white mist came in front 
 of my eyes, that I thought I was going to 
 swoon away like a woman ! Fifteen years 
 fifteen years it was like contemplating 
 eternity. Then a gens de police touched 
 me not unkindly on the arm and I pulled 
 myself together sufficiently to bow to the 
 President and to utter a rather shaky 
 " Merci, Monsieur." 
 
 Then I went back the same way as I had 
 come, yet oh, how different in feeling ! Fif- 
 teen years ! My God ! I stumbled on to 
 a stone bench, and hiding my face in my 
 hands, wished wildly that I had foregone 
 my revenge, that I had exerted my influ- 
 ence and even that I had let Ferrand bribe 
 my jailers into letting me escape. 
 
 Some one touched me on the shoulder. 
 I looked up it was Ferrand. " Well ? " 
 I said, in a strange hoarse voice the voice 
 
 94
 
 For Love of Woman 
 
 no longer of a Somers of Somersley, but of 
 Charles Hyde, the for fat. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said, simply. " I did 
 my best. I failed except in that I won 
 some mitigation. Tell me, can I do any- 
 thing else for you now ? " 
 
 " Nothing," I said, wretchedly. 
 
 " I can take no message to your friends ? " 
 he persisted. 
 
 " I have no friends in Paris," I replied. 
 
 " Or write letters to your relations in 
 England ? " 
 
 " No many thanks I would not have 
 them know my situation for the whole 
 world." 
 
 " There is no lady ? " 
 
 " None," I replied, fiercely, and with a 
 shudder. " You have done your best for 
 me, sir, and I thank you with all my heart. 
 If ever I am free I will seek you out and 
 thank you differently. Until then I will 
 ask you to forget that you ever knew such 
 a one as myself. If I should be inquired 
 for, described, will you favor me by giving 
 those who ask no clue to my whereabouts ? " 
 
 "Certainly, I will do that," he said, 
 
 95
 
 Grip 
 
 He stood looking at me with a distressed 
 face, and kept his hand on my shoulder. 
 It was the last kind touch from a free hand 
 that I felt for years. 
 
 " Tell me," I said, suddenly, " why have 
 I been kept alone all these weeks ? I have 
 heard, when I have been exercising, other 
 prisoners talking, laughing, swearing." 
 
 "You are Engleesh," he said, looking at 
 me doubtfully. " They would not put you 
 with the others ; they wished to keep you 
 safe for the trial." 
 
 I burst out laughing as I grasped his 
 meaning. " So," I said, bitterly, " and now 
 I take my chance, eh ? Ah, well, I'm in for 
 a spell of bad luck, but I am not done with 
 yet. I can hold my own even in a gang of 
 formats" And then it came into my mind 
 again that I had not been called " the Bull- 
 dog " for nothing. 
 
 It seemed as if they were still a little 
 careful of me I suppose they wanted to 
 save me to do at least a part of my sen- 
 tence. At all events I was left alone 
 sitting on the stone bench for some time 
 after Jules Ferrand had left me left to 
 96
 
 For Love of Woman 
 
 think it all over to try to realize that I 
 was a convict sentenced to spend the next 
 fifteen years in a French prison. Fifteen 
 years ! God above, it was like a century ! 
 
 And Ferrand, poor little chap, had asked 
 me if he could take any message for me ; if 
 there was no lady a lady, my God, my 
 God 1 Should I want to send a message to 
 the woman who had brought me to this 
 the woman who had changed my whole life, 
 ruined my career, blighted my existence, 
 and to whom I directly owed my present 
 situation, through whom I found myself 
 like a caged bird with clipped wings ? A 
 message to her dear Heaven, no ! 
 
 And yet, as I thought over his well-meant 
 offer, and recalled his hesitating words, they 
 seemed to make a man of me once more ! 
 True, I had met with a run of bad luck 
 there was no gainsaying it. But must I sit 
 down and let Fate do with me what she 
 would? Must I abandon my revenge 
 because I had been checked for the 
 moment ? Should I call out, " There is a 
 lion in the way " ? No ; a thousand times, 
 no ! If I had six months ago been pos- 
 
 7 97
 
 Grip 
 
 sessed of hunger and thirst for revenge, 
 how much more so now ! I must not, 
 would not, let this unlooked-for and almost 
 accidental occurrence turn me from the 
 great object of my life : on the contrary, I 
 would add it to the debt already accumu- 
 lated, and I would take heart of grace and 
 patiently await the day on which I should 
 pay it in full, in full and with interest / 
 
 I got up from the stone bench and 
 stretched myself. I was a new man. I had 
 almost forgotten the wretchedness of a 
 moment agone. Ill-luck had spread her 
 dark wings over me the star of Desmond 
 de Lancy was in the ascendant, but I would 
 conquer, I would win through ; let the life 
 before me, the indignity, the suffering be 
 what they might, I would win through. I 
 would rise up, even though there be not so 
 much as a day's mitigation of my sentence, 
 and one day I would meet mine enemy 
 face to face ; I would pay my debt, and in 
 full! 
 
 I was a new man ! I had made up my 
 mind. Despondency and repining should 
 know me no more. If I was called Charles 
 98
 
 Hyde, I would still be in my heart George 
 Somers, ex-ensign of the Regent's, known 
 in his regiment as " the Bulldog." 
 
 Dear heart alive ! I had need of all my 
 resolutions, of all my Yorkshire pluck, of 
 all my endurance, and of all my fortitude, 
 for from that day I entered upon a life that 
 was nothing short of hell upon earth. I had 
 been born to no bed of roses, for we 
 Somerses had always prided ourselves on 
 our hardness ; I had knocked about fairly 
 well for my years, and my sympathies had 
 ever been with the king's son who ate of a 
 little pulse and water ; but of such a life as 
 I led after the President of the Court in 
 which I met my fate addressed me in 
 solemn words which I could not under- 
 stand, I had never formed any conception. 
 I had no suspicion that any such hell was 
 to be found in all the length and breadth 
 of Europe ! 
 
 I found that the next sortie of formats was 
 destined for the Bagne of Toulon, and we 
 waited day after day until our tale should 
 be complete. I had seen the last of my 
 solitary cell, for before nightfall they came 
 
 99
 
 Grip 
 
 and conducted me to the general company 
 of the condemned ! 
 
 I never saw such a crew at least, I had 
 never seen such a crew until that hour ; the 
 like were my daily portion from that time 
 forward ! I was received with a howl of 
 derision, I imagine because my clothes 
 betrayed me as a man of class ; and when 
 they found that I was an Englishman they 
 closed in around me with the evident 
 intention of saving the State any further 
 expense on my behalf. Bah ! I took but 
 little truck with them. I let fly right and 
 left with my fists, and when one fellow 
 who had not gone sprawling tried a quiet 
 kick, I just caught him by the ankle and 
 brought him down sharp on the flat of his 
 back, so that I fancy he saw stars for some 
 little time afterwards ; at all events, he did 
 not see his way clear to tackling me again. 
 
 They were a set of miserable, craven 
 wretches, ill-fed, ill-grown, ignorant of all 
 save vice, without a ha'porth of pluck 
 among them all. So far as I could gather 
 from their jargon, when they found that I 
 was not a weakling like themselves, they 
 100
 
 For Love of Woman 
 
 somewhat glorified me. I believe they 
 would even have cheered me if they had 
 known how. As it was, they had only 
 enough spirit to emit a yowl like a few half- 
 strangled cats out on the tiles on a wet night. 
 Finding that I was to be left alone, even 
 in a sense to be set on a pedestal, I sat me 
 down on a vacant bench and surveyed my 
 surroundings. I need not describe them 
 the men who were my companions in mis- 
 fortune. It is enough to say that they were 
 the riff-raff of the wickedest city in the 
 world, and that they carried their social 
 status clearly stamped upon their evil faces 
 and plainly written in their filthy ways. 
 There were only three in all that motley 
 crowd who looked at all as if they had ever 
 filled a respectable position in life : one was 
 a burly middle-aged man in a blue blouse ; 
 another a decent-looking elderly man wear- 
 ing a black coat ; and the third was a mere 
 boy, small and slight and fair, who sat at the 
 other end of my bench, his elbows on his 
 knees and his face hidden in his hands. I 
 found out afterwards that he was a young 
 clerk who had yielded to sudden temptation
 
 Grip 
 
 and had helped himself to his employer's 
 money. His term of the travaux forces was 
 twenty years ! Poor lad, I watched him for 
 a while, wondering if he were French or 
 English, and pitying him that he did not 
 pluck up a little instead of letting such a 
 crew of mistrables as those around us see 
 plainly the full bitterness of his situation. 
 Poor lad ! he flung himself down next to me 
 when we stretched ourselves upon the 
 straw which was all our bed, and presently 
 I heard him sobbing passionately under his 
 breath, and so bitterly that after listening 
 for some little time I rolled a little nearer to 
 him, and put my hand on his shoulder. 
 " Young 'un," I said, in a low voice, for I 
 did not want the others to chime in, 
 " young 'un, can you speak English ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I am English," he answered, 
 choking down his sobs and raising his 
 head so as to peer at me in the dim light. 
 
 " Gad ! you don't say so. I say, young 
 'un, don't take it so to heart; time soon 
 passes, and you'll get used to it." 
 
 " Twenty years ! " he sighed ; " twenty 
 years it's a lifetime." 
 
 J02
 
 For Love of Woman 
 
 I was almost sorry I had spoken. " So it 
 is," I said. I was obliged to say something. 
 " But still, care killed a cat. After all, it 
 mayn't be so bad as you expect and, 
 anyhow, fretting won't help you. You're 
 English, you say. What's your name ? " 
 
 "John Leroy." 
 
 " Leroy ! It sounds almost French." 
 
 " My great-grandfather was French," he 
 whispered. " I always call myself Jean 
 Leroy in Paris it doesn't do to be English, 
 you know. Besides that, my mother is a 
 Frenchwoman." And then he broke down 
 and began to sob again. " Oh, my mother, 
 my poor, poor mother!" he muttered, 
 tearfully. 
 
 " Yes. Well, you should have thought 
 of your poor mother a bit earlier," I said, 
 for I had little or no sentimentality about 
 me. " See here, when we move out of this 
 try and keep near to me, as near as you 
 can. If they guess you are English or can 
 even speak English, they will keep us apart. 
 Perhaps I can help you on a little one way 
 or another." 
 
 He peered at me again through the dim 
 103
 
 Grip 
 
 light cast by the one small swinging lamp 
 overhead. " Have you ever seen a gang of 
 formats on their way to the Bagne?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Never," I whispered back. 
 
 " Then you don't know what lies before 
 you. Do you think that you go by coach ? 
 Man Dieu, they will take us chained 
 chained like wild beasts all through the 
 streets of Paris, all through France, past 
 towns, villages, woods, forests, on on on 
 till we come to Hell J" 
 
 I did not like to tell the poor lad that he 
 ought to have thought of all this before. 
 Instead, I said to him, " What brought you 
 to this ? " 
 
 He confided his pitiful story to me a 
 common one enough. I have already told 
 you its main features. " I would have put 
 the money back," he said, earnestly. " I 
 only borrowed it I never meant to steal it. 
 I did not, indeed." 
 
 " No, no ; of course not. But, you see, 
 
 that's the brutal way the world looks at 
 
 it. Any way, it is no use bemoaning your 
 
 hard fate now. Pluck up be a man 
 
 104
 
 For Love of Woman 
 
 make up your mind that you will win 
 through." 
 
 I think he was comforted, for he went 
 to sleep with his hand in mine ; and I 
 well, perhaps you will smile when I tell you 
 that I felt as if I had found something to 
 live for. I mean something more tangible, 
 more real, than the deadly feverished future 
 which possessed me. For a long time I lay 
 wide awake in the straw holding the lad's 
 hand, and thinking how strange it was that 
 the love of Margaret Eden should have 
 brought me to this !
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE UNEXPECTED. 
 
 I DON'T know that anything which hap- 
 pened after my foregathering with 
 young Jean Leroy served so thoroughly 
 to bring home my situation to me with 
 full horror as did that first night passed 
 in the straw of the general cell to which 
 I was introduced a few hours after I had 
 received my sentence. It was a wholly 
 new experience to me and a horrible one. 
 The close and foetid smell of the place, 
 the groans, the moans, the snores and 
 the sobs of the occupants intermingled with 
 fierce oaths and scraps of ribald song, all 
 revolted and sickened me. On my word I 
 do not know which I despised and loathed 
 the most the craven hearts of those who 
 sobbed with terror and despair, full of pen- 
 itence that they had heen found out, or the 
 bold and evil natures of those who made 
 the best of a run of bad luck, with a devil- 
 loo
 
 The Unexpected 
 
 may-care spirit which would send them out 
 into the world again by and by, more wicked 
 and more ready for all sorts and conditions 
 of crime than ever. 
 
 We had a fortnight more of this life before 
 we began the long tramp to Toulon, a fort- 
 night which seemed like a year of never- 
 ending days which dragged slowly along in 
 continuous ribaldry and din. For the noise 
 was unceasing ; it continued day and night, 
 and though I slept at times from sheer 
 weariness, if ever I awoke there was always 
 at least one group awake and alert, singing, 
 gaming, or quarrelling, and sometimes 
 doing all three. I think if I had fallen on 
 these evil days straight from my life with 
 the Regent's where one never knew much 
 of the pleasures of quietness, or, even di- 
 rect from a long stay at Somersley, where 
 there was always the racket of a large family 
 much given to all manner of sport and of 
 rollicking fun, that I should not have felt 
 it so much. But I had been kept for many 
 weeks in solitary confinement, without a 
 soul with whom I could exchange an intel- 
 ligible word, with never a sound from the 
 107
 
 Grip 
 
 outside world to pierce the walls of my cell. 
 And before that I had lived almost alone 
 for several months, ef necessity spending 
 many hours a day studying a foreign lan- 
 guage, and usually eating all my meals at a 
 single table in solitude in the modest and 
 respectable restaurant which I frequented, 
 so the exchange was doubly terrible to me. 
 I believe that most of our fellow-prisoners 
 would have been perfectly content to re- 
 main in that loathly atmosphere forever. 
 For my part I almost jumped for joy when 
 the order came to prepare for the march. 
 To each and all of the others it was as the 
 announcement of doom, and those who had 
 seemed the most devil-may-care and reck- 
 less began to shrink into themselves, and 
 to shed all the cocksure airs in which they 
 had so freely indulged before. My young 
 friend, Jean Leroy, began to cringe and cry 
 weakly ; but his dread was natural enough. 
 All, or at least I should say, the most he 
 feared was that his mother and sisters would 
 be waiting about on the line of route for 
 the chance of getting a last look at him, ere 
 he went into the oblivion of twenty years 
 1 08
 
 The Unexpected 
 
 of the travaux forces. I comforted him as 
 best I could, reminding him that at least we 
 should be able to breathe the free breezes 
 of Heaven instead of the pestilential and 
 polluted air which was at present our por- 
 tion. 
 
 "You don't know you don't under- 
 stand," he almost wailed in the inten- 
 sity of his despair, " the shame, the humil- 
 iation, the torturing fear of recognition ! 
 We shall be chained like wild beasts one 
 to another in a string half a mile long. To 
 be seen by one's friend, one's mother, one's 
 s we eth e art ' ' 
 
 " You should have thought of all this be- 
 fore you did what brought you here, my 
 boy," I said gruffly, for there was no sense 
 in letting him rob himself of such small 
 store of strength as he possessed. 
 
 "And you also," he retorted. It was 
 the first time that he had ever alluded to 
 my position as being equal with his own. 
 I did not resent it he was too weak and 
 womanish for that. 
 
 "Well," I said, quietly, "perhaps if I 
 had known as much as you seem to do 
 109
 
 Grip 
 
 about these matters, I should have kept my- 
 self in better check and there would be one 
 policeman more to bring the erring to ac- 
 count. But I, at least, take my fate with- 
 out overmuch repining, and in a spirit of 
 philosophy. You have English blood in 
 your veins, my boy ; try to show it." 
 
 It was useless to preach to him ; he was 
 a weakling, a poor feeble soul, without the 
 heart of a mouse in that delicate girlish 
 body of his. He flung himself down in the 
 straw beside me, mumbling piteously at my 
 hand. " Charley, Charley," he moaned, 
 "don't let me anger you, my one friend, my 
 one stand-by, my salvation. I'm weak 
 weak my mother spoiled me 
 
 " Nay," I broke in, " never let yourself 
 say that, lad. The fault is all your own 
 be a man and admit it. Never cry out 
 upon your mother that she was too loving. 
 If she was so, she has suffered enough ere 
 this." 
 
 Poor lad, poor lad ! It was a frail and 
 pitiful nature, and his very weakness served 
 to make me more strong. I shall never 
 forget his agonized face as they put the
 
 The Unexpected 
 
 fatal collar upon his neck, poor lad ! They 
 put him just in front of me, with the idea, 
 I knew, that my great height would prove 
 further pain and tribulation for both of us. 
 I let them I made no effort to alter 
 things. We were badly matched without a 
 doubt, but I knew that I could spare the 
 lad a great deal if I were near him, far 
 more than my greater height would inflict 
 upon him as we marched. 
 
 I proved the truth of this the very first 
 day, for iheforfaf immediately in front of 
 Leroy was an old hand who was making 
 the journey for the third time. I found 
 within a couple of hours that the lad's neck 
 was beginning to raw and, but think of it, 
 we had weeks of marching before us so I 
 signified by his mouth that if his neighbor 
 continued to twitch the chain as he was 
 doing then, I would find a way to make it 
 worse for him. My threat had the desired 
 effect. 
 
 And yet it was a horrible journey, full of 
 pain, fatigue, terror, humiliation, and dis- 
 tress. From the moment of leaving the 
 gates of our prison we became intimately 
 in
 
 Grip 
 
 acquainted, in all their most hideous 
 forms, with terrors by night, with the arrows 
 of abuse and shame that flew by day, with 
 the pestilence that walketh in darkness, and 
 the sickness that destroyeth in the noon- 
 day. Long before we had done the half of 
 our journey the old hand, who marched 
 immediately in front of Jean Leroy, fell, 
 and was released from the chain. A guard 
 remained in charge of him, but whether he 
 lived or died I cannot say I never knew. 
 Anyway, I never saw him again. He never 
 came to Toulon, so I conclude that his end 
 was that of a nameless grave in the peace- 
 ful little village, just then white with cherry 
 blossoms, near to which he fell. 
 
 We had left Paris in late April, when all 
 the country was looking its best and fairest. 
 At first, when I used to lie awake in the 
 straw, which was all the bed we had in the 
 sheds wherein we lay at night, and heard 
 in the early dawn the little birds outside 
 cheeping and twittering in their free and 
 happy enjoyment of the dawning day, I 
 used to think of dear, far-away Somersley, 
 and wonder if I should ever see the cherry 
 112
 
 The Unexpected 
 
 orchards there again ? But that stage did 
 not last long. Every day that passed made 
 me more and more ready when the night 
 came to fling myself down and sleep like 
 a log, and made me sleep longer and longer 
 in the morning till at last I scarcely heard 
 the whistle of the warder, which was the 
 signal for us to start on our weary way 
 again. 
 
 I believe, but for his dread of being parted 
 from me, that Jean Leroy would have fallen 
 by the way more than once. As it was I 
 encouraged and helped him all I knew and 
 all that I was able, and so enabled him to 
 keep going all through that dreary march, 
 until we at last passed under the great 
 gates and within the walls of the Bagne at 
 Toulon. 
 
 " I shall never come out of this place 
 alive," Jean Leroy murmured to me as we 
 paused in the great court-yard for direc- 
 tions. 
 
 " Nonsense, lad. Pluck up your heart," 
 I said as cheerily as I could. " Perhaps 
 you'll get sent to hospital for a bit." 
 
 He turned his haggard tear-stained, sun- 
 8 113
 
 Grip 
 
 dried young face upon me. " Charley," he 
 said, in a nervous whisper, "I want to keep 
 close to you. I daren't give way and be ill. 
 If we are near to each other, you so big and 
 I so small, they will chain us together in 
 the hope that you will kill me and that then 
 they will guillotine you." 
 
 I laughed aloud. 
 
 " Nonsense. They want to get work out 
 of us. Killing us would be a mistake." 
 
 " Do they ? " he whispered, significantly. 
 
 I found out afterwards that he was not 
 far wrong. However, his terror made him 
 desperate and the strength of his despair 
 kept him from giving way and breaking 
 down. So, by great good luck though I 
 could see plainly enough by the faces of 
 those in charge of us that it was meant 
 brutally we were coupled together. 
 
 Need I tell you what followed ? Yes, but 
 not in detail oh, not in detail ! I would 
 myself forget it if I could. I would rather 
 that those who love me should never know 
 the full extent of the humiliation and deg- 
 radation through which I went. 
 
 The first weeks were the worst of ne- 
 114
 
 The Unexpected 
 
 cessity ! After a time the stronger ones got 
 used to it and the weakly ones succumbed 
 to the hardships of an existence which was 
 worse than any hell that ever I heard of. 
 At least, if the hell taught by the Churches 
 be true, the condemned must have eternal 
 strength given them to bear eternal punish- 
 ment. In the hell which is called the 
 Bagne of Toulon the torture was absolutely 
 incommensurate with the physical strength 
 of the tortured. 
 
 The poor lad, Leroy did not hold out 
 against it long. He did his best, and I did 
 mine to shield him from the consequences 
 of his lack of strength and sheer inability 
 to cope with the tasks which were allotted 
 to him. I worked all the time for two, 
 worked until my muscles grew like knotted 
 ropes, until I ached as if I had been beaten 
 all over, until when I was not wet through 
 with dew or mist I was bathed in sweat. 
 But it was all to no good. He was broken 
 in nerve and feeble in frame I did all the 
 work, and he could not even keep pace 
 with me. Our guards called him stupid and 
 a skulker, and they flogged him even when 
 
 "5
 
 Grip 
 
 they must have known he was dying. And 
 I had to stand by and see and hear, power- 
 less to save him a single stripe. My God, 
 will there be any hell hereafter which will 
 equal in terror and brutality that which was 
 devised by human beings like ourselves ? I 
 I think not I hope not ! 
 
 As I said, he did not last long ! Before 
 the colder blasts of winter had set in, he was 
 released from the chain and taken to hos- 
 pital. I was allowed to see him before the 
 end came, as he wished to charge me with 
 a message to his mother, and I had also 
 permission to write a letter to her for him, 
 he being too far gone to hold a pen. It 
 was a dreadful interview, and I thanked 
 God when all was over and I saw the poor, 
 haggard face set in that peace which could 
 never be broken. He was so young, so 
 weak, so frail ! Perhaps his mother had not 
 been judicious with him, as he had said if 
 so, it was he who bore the brunt, poor lad. 
 
 I was free of a chain-comrade for a few 
 
 days, for there was no one available to 
 
 couple me to. It was a relief to be free, 
 
 even though I missed my poor lad so badly. 
 
 116
 
 The Unexpected 
 
 Not that I grudged him his rest oh, no ; 
 it was better for him that he should have 
 finished with it all and be at rest. He had 
 no hope, no future, nothing to live for as 
 I had. 
 
 My next comrade was a person of quite 
 another kidney. His name, Anton La 
 Roque ; his crime, robbery with violence ; 
 his sentence, sixteen years; and his dis- 
 position that of the most unmitigated 
 blackguard who had ever fallen under my 
 notice. How many times in the next year 
 did I sigh for the poor lad whose worst fail- 
 ing had been his overwhelming weakness, 
 who, with all his faults and his one crime, 
 was an angel of light compared with the 
 black devil called Anton la Roque. 
 
 He was not new to the Bagne : this was 
 his second term, the first having been a 
 comparatively short one. He was a de- 
 termined skulker ; he would have led me the 
 life of a dog if I had not been physically so 
 much more than a match for him. As it 
 was, though I had taken double my share 
 for the sake of a dying lad, I made La 
 Roque do his full whack, and this, perhaps 
 117
 
 Grip 
 
 not unnaturally, made ill-blood between us. 
 Still, I was so strong and I had such a fierce 
 vindictive overpowering incentive to win 
 through without a single misdemeanor, 
 that when it came to a tussle he always 
 got the worst of it. At last, however, he 
 brought matters to an end, for I caught him 
 one night filing stealthily at his fetters, and 
 on my telling him that I would call the guard 
 if he did not desist for I had no desire to 
 find myself a marked man or to have a taste 
 of the bastonnade he turned savagely on 
 me and attempted to brain me with his file. 
 Of course there was an outcry, for I closed 
 with him and wrenched the file from him, 
 and when the guard came hurrying up, 
 gathering the main points of what had 
 happened from the formats around, he com- 
 pleted the uproar by striking the officer full 
 in the face. 
 
 What need to tell the rest ? He went to 
 the guillotine and I was commended : and 
 what was more important to me, I was free 
 of a chain-comrade until a new gang of 
 formats should arrive from various parts of 
 the country a week or ten days later. 
 118
 
 The Unexpected 
 
 I thought little enough about La Roque 
 after I had seen him pass to the guillotine. 
 What was one villain more or less in the 
 world ? But I did think a good deal of 
 what a lucky chance it had been that I had 
 not been implicated in his endeavor to 
 escape ! How lucky that the formats around 
 had told the truth, for the old adage, 
 " Honor among thieves," by no means held 
 good in the Bagne. I wondered not a little 
 eagerly what manner of man my next 
 comrade would be, for one's comrade made 
 all the difference between hell and compara- 
 tive Heaven. 
 
 At last the new gang arrived, weary, foot- 
 sore, unkempt, ill-conditioned, weather- 
 stained, yet bringing with them a breath 
 from the world a free world wherein men 
 came and went as they chose ! How I 
 longed for freedom, how my soul panted to 
 be alone quite alone none but myself ever 
 knew. My desire was only equalled by 
 my longing to be revenged on the man who 
 had wronged me, on the woman whose false- 
 ness had brought me to that place. 
 
 And at last they came the band of miser- 
 119
 
 Grip 
 
 ables, who had yet to taste the most bitter 
 waters of adversity. I and two others whose 
 comrades had gone were brought in to the 
 court-yard, where the smiths' forge was, to 
 await our turn for new comrades. 
 
 " First man Charles 'Yde," called the 
 officer in charge. I stepped forward. 
 " First man's name ? " he continued, to the 
 officer in charge of the new arrivals. 
 
 " First man's name," was the reply which 
 fell upon my astonished ears like a clap of 
 thunder " Desmond de Lancy /" 
 
 120
 
 Face to Face 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FACE TO FACE. 
 
 WHEN I heard the name of Desmond 
 de Lancy as that of my future 
 comrade of the chain I almost swooned 
 away in the intensity of my excitement. 
 So at last I understood why I had been 
 deprived of my liberty and brought to that 
 hell of torture and despair. After all, 
 Heaven had been very good to me, and 
 mine enemy was delivered into my hand. I 
 could do with him even as I would I could 
 draw out the pains and penalties of revenge 
 to as fine a nicety as I chose. 
 
 These and many other wild and exultant 
 thoughts rang through my head, together 
 with the beating of great drums, the rush- 
 ing sound of many waters, the ding-dong of 
 huge bells which first rang loud and clear, 
 and then seemed to fade away into the far 
 distance ; and when at last the sensation of 
 
 121
 
 Grip 
 
 choking began to leave my throat, and the 
 thick white mist to clear away from before 
 my eyes, I saw that they had got De Lancy 
 down upon the ground, and were already 
 preparing for the accouplement, which would 
 put him altogether at my mercy. 
 
 The accouplement was a humiliating and 
 extremely unpleasant process, and De Lancy 
 lay helplessly face down on the stones of 
 the court-yard, his leg the while being held 
 in position against the forge by the format 
 who was assistant to the smith. He neither 
 moved nor uttered a sound, and I stood by 
 as impassively as I had stood by to see the 
 blackguard, La Roque, flogged ; though, of 
 course, it would not have been of the very 
 smallest use for me to have moved a finger 
 or spoken a single word, even had I desired 
 to serve him ever so. As it was I stood by 
 and saw nothing more ! 
 
 It happened sometimes that the smith 
 was none too careful, the prisoner nervous, 
 or the assistant careless, and that the ac- 
 couplement was not made without accident. I 
 did not know to which of the three causes 
 one could attribute the contretemps of that 
 122
 
 Face to Face 
 
 day, but in the course of the operation there 
 was bungling or, maybe, spite, somewhere, 
 and the result was that De Lancy got an 
 ugly rap on the ankle bone, and after one 
 groan lay motionless and fainting ! 
 
 The officer in charge snarled angrily at 
 the smith, and struck at him with his cane. 
 But nobody troubled to examine the unfort- 
 unate De Lancy's bruise, and, as I was of 
 necessity idle for the time, and as the place 
 whereon he lay was required for the next 
 prisoner, I was told to carry him to one 
 side and see to him. It was the first 
 absolutely congenial task which had been 
 allotted to me since I had become a 
 format. 
 
 I carried De Lancy to the side of the great 
 court-yard where there was a well at which 
 I could get some water, and I set him care- 
 fully down while I drew up the pail. I took 
 a good look at him before I tossed some of 
 the chill water over his face. I scanned 
 his features carefully. Yes ; it was the 
 same De Lancy, my enemy, the man who 
 had robbed me of my heart's darling, whom 
 I had never seen since I had watched him 
 123
 
 Grip 
 
 with her in the jeweler's shop in the Hay- 
 market. Yes, yes it was the same, but 
 how changed, how worn, how haggard he 
 was ! He had lost all the handsome looks 
 which had won the heart of Margaret Eden 
 from me, and was now thin and mean-look- 
 ing to a degree. I looked down at my own 
 strong healthy hands and compared them 
 with his that were sickly white, and I 
 wondered how Margaret could have chosen 
 him of the two of us. Well, well, it was no 
 use thinking about that the day for dwell- 
 ing upon Margaret Eden and love had gone 
 by forever, and there remained for me no 
 zest or interest in life but a great thirst for 
 revenge, and here was my revenge actually 
 in my hand, sent by Heaven itself. 
 
 I dipped my hand in the water and 
 sprinkled his face freely. " Come," I said, 
 roughly, for why should I leave him any 
 longer to the luxury of unconsciousness ? 
 " Come, wake up," and I accompanied the 
 words with a none too gentle shake. 
 
 With a sigh and a shiver he came back to 
 himself again and stared up at me ; but it 
 was with the gaze of a complete and utter 
 124
 
 Face to Face 
 
 stranger. " Who are you ? " he asked, in 
 French. 
 
 " Your comrade of the chain," I replied, 
 in English. 
 
 He raised himself on his elbows and re- 
 garded me with a curiosity which betrayed 
 the keenest interest. " What, an English- 
 man ? " he exclaimed, " Yes, you look 
 English ! I, too, am half English ; my 
 mother was of your country." 
 
 I almost laughed in his face ! How little 
 he guessed that I knew all about his 
 mother and about him, too, excepting such 
 as had happened since I had been at 
 Toulon. 
 
 " And I I married an English lady," 
 he went on, hesitating a little, while a deep 
 scarlet flush dyed his worn face. " My 
 
 my wife " but he could not finish the 
 
 sentence, but hid his face on his arm as he 
 lay on the ground by the well and I saw his 
 shoulders heaving. 
 
 " Your wife is living ? " I asked, in a cold 
 hard voice, for when I had last heard defi- 
 nite news of Margaret my Margaret she 
 had been dangerously ill. 
 
 I2 5
 
 Grip 
 
 " Yes ; thank God, she is alive," he an- 
 swered, raising his head again, though his 
 eyes were wet. Then he devoutly crossed 
 himself the ignorant Papist that he was 
 and muttered something under his breath 
 which I took to be a benediction. " I I 
 feel that I shall never see her again in 
 this life." 
 
 " And you believe in another ? " I in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Why, yes! Do not you?" he replied, 
 simply. 
 
 " I doubt if any one believes much in 
 anything here," I said roughly. " Except 
 that there is a hell, and that we have got 
 to it before our time." 
 
 " Ah ! " and he gave a sigh as if he had 
 already come to the same conclusion. 
 
 " What brought you here ? " I asked. I 
 sat on the edge of the well and he was still 
 lying where I had first put him propped up 
 against it. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. " I am a 
 
 political prisoner," he answered. " In what 
 
 my crime consists it would be hard to say. 
 
 For one thing, I am too favorable to your 
 
 126
 
 Face to Face 
 
 nation ; for another I I objected to cer- 
 tain attentions being shown to my wife by 
 one very high in station." 
 
 " You are jealous ? " 
 
 "No not particularly. My wife," and 
 again he crossed himself, " is very young, 
 and she is very beautiful." 
 
 He little guessed that I knew even better 
 than himself exactly what was his wife's 
 age, and that I had watched her beauty un- 
 fold even from the days of her babyhood. 
 
 " She is entirely devoted to me," he con- 
 tinued, and then his voice broke, and he 
 hid his face on his arm again. 
 
 I ground my teeth in silent rage, and he, 
 choking down his emotion, looked up again. 
 " You see, she is so young," he said, and 
 he spoke as if he was yearning to talk 
 things over with somebody, " not twenty 
 yet." 
 
 I knew Margaret's age to a nicety, but I 
 kept the knowledge to myself. " What is 
 your term here ? " I asked, as soon as I 
 could command my voice. 
 
 " Twelve years and perpetual banish- 
 ment." 
 
 127
 
 Grip 
 
 " So ! Ah, well, since your wife is so 
 young, she will doubtless console herself." 
 
 " Never ! " he interrupted, fiercely. 
 
 " Twelve years is a long time out of a 
 woman's life, and women even the best of 
 them are fickle," I persisted. 
 
 " My wife is entirely devoted to me," he 
 said, in a tone of firm conviction. " She 
 will exist until I return. She will meet me 
 in Heaven if I die here. And besides that 
 there is the child." 
 
 "Oh, there is a child?" 
 
 "Yes; our little son, just four months 
 old when I left her. You don't know my 
 wife ; though you might know her, being a 
 woman of your own country. There is no 
 fickleness there. I would stake my soul 
 on her faith and honor." 
 
 " It is a good deal to stake on so small a 
 thing," I said, carelessly. " You think that 
 you have been her only lover so far ? " 
 
 " I know it," he broke in, passionately. 
 " No man but myself has ever crossed her 
 heart. I was the first, as I shall be the 
 last." 
 
 So the jade had never told him even of 
 128
 
 Face to Face 
 
 my existence. She had fooled him into 
 thinking that his kisses had been the first 
 ever pressed upon her lips, his eyes the 
 first that had ever looked into hers with 
 passion of love, his voice the only one that 
 had ever whispered those fond vows to 
 which all women listen sooner or later. As 
 she had deceived me, so had she also 
 deceived him. So doubtless she would 
 betray him before long. I sat on the edge 
 of the well and eyed him, my comrade in 
 misfortune, doubly my comrade, though he 
 did not know it. But though I did pity 
 him in my heart, yet no thought of fore- 
 going my coming revenge ever entered into 
 my mind. Another moment and I should 
 have disclosed myself to him, when all at 
 once I was struck with the appalling dif- 
 ference between us. For never were two 
 men more unlike. I big, strong, ugly, and 
 godless he small, slight, delicate, devout, 
 and extremely handsome, though his beauty 
 was worn. In one sense we had at last 
 met face to face on equal terms tied by a 
 common chain : he a political prisoner, I, 
 a foreigner, who had killed a man more or 
 
 9 I2 9
 
 Grip 
 
 less accidentally in a scuffle, and who was 
 suffering, therefore, simply and solely be- 
 cause of my nationality. I had hidden my 
 identity under an assumed name because I 
 had been afraid that he might refuse to 
 meet me did I challenge him with the 
 shadow of a slur upon my name ; and now 
 that we had met at last, on a perfect equal- 
 ity so far as our standing in the world went, 
 I could not but see that we were far less 
 equal than we had been at any time, for I 
 had won through the most difficult part of 
 my time, and he was on the very threshold 
 of his Gethsemane, with all the horrors of 
 the worst right before him. 
 
 Of course any idea of challenging him to 
 a duel was out of the question so long as 
 we were, one or both of us, formats at the 
 Bagne of Toulon! We might fight, and 
 one might kill the other ; but where would 
 be the satisfaction of killing a man so much 
 my inferior, in a physical sense, as De 
 Lancy, and, moreover, where would be the 
 satisfaction when my reward would be the 
 guillotine ? I had no fancy either for kill- 
 ing De Lancy in a common fight or for 
 130
 
 Face to Face 
 
 ending my own days under the knife of 
 shame. No, no ; a fair fight and no favor 
 between gentlemen of equal standing was 
 one thing murder and suicide belonged to 
 a different category altogether. 
 
 It was not often that a format had the 
 chance of a long, quiet talk and think. 
 But for the next few hours De Lancy and 
 I had nothing to do, because he, being a 
 new comer into the JBagne, was entitled to 
 a certain period of rest, and I, being his 
 chain-companion, could not work without 
 him. Moreover, I had been in the Bagne 
 for nearly two years with not the faintest 
 shadow of a misdemeanor against my name, 
 and that did not count for nothing. Vile 
 as the place was, suspicious as every official 
 had come to be by that habit which is sec- 
 ond nature, low cunning and uncertain as 
 nine out of ten of the formats were, I had 
 yet won a good reputation both for my 
 enormous strength and for my having from 
 the first set my face against any underhand 
 ways. I wished to get through my allotted 
 time without a single black mark against 
 my name, and, what was more, I meant to
 
 Grip 
 
 carry it out. So it seemed as if they knew 
 that the new format was safe with me, and 
 they left us alone until mess-time. 
 
 Thus, while De Lancy got his breath 
 lying in the sun against the side of the 
 well, and I sat on the edge of it, I was able 
 to think out the situation at my leisure. 
 And the main thought which came to me 
 was that my revenge was further off from 
 me than ever ! For a brief spell it had 
 seemed to me as if Heaven itself had deliv- 
 ered him into my hand ; reflection taught 
 me that I was in search of an enemy, not 
 of a victim. True, it was in my power to 
 double his pains, to treble his torture, to 
 quadruple his regrets, and to wreak my ven- 
 geance upon him in a thousand ways in 
 wretchedness and miseries untold. But, as 
 I said, I sought an enemy, not a victim ! 
 And my enemy must be my equal in skill, 
 if not in physical strength ! Between Des- 
 mond De Lancy and George Somers there 
 could be no equality so long as we were 
 bound by one common chain in the Bagne 
 of Toulon. 
 
 Then a new thought presented itself to 
 132
 
 Face to Face 
 
 me. I would keep silence as to my real 
 self, I would continue to conceal my iden- 
 tity under the name of Charles Hyde poor 
 devil ! he had little thought how useful his 
 name and passport would be to some one 
 else when he had done with them and 
 I would constitute myself Desmond de 
 Lancy's guardian, I would shelter and 
 shield him, I would do for him what I had 
 done for the poor lad, Jean Leroy. Coupled 
 with the ordinary blackguard of the Bagne, 
 it is doubtful whether a man of Desmond 
 de Lancy's temperament would have lived 
 six months ; as my comrade, I could spare 
 him so much that his burden would be but 
 the half of what it should have been. Yes ; 
 I would shield him and save him not for 
 love as I had shielded the weak lad, Leroy, 
 but for very hate, so that he should be 
 there in good case when I had need of him. 
 Then, years hence, when we were both free 
 of this hell and out of this hated and detes- 
 table country, I would call on him, as one 
 gentleman calls upon another, to give me 
 the chance of wiping out with his heart's 
 blood the wrong that he had done me. 
 
 133
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FRIENDS AND COMRADES? 
 
 HAVING made up my mind to this 
 course of action, I resolved to live 
 up to the character of Charles Hyde in 
 right good earnest. I told De Lancy that 
 while we were chain-comrades I would 
 do my best for him and that I would help 
 him through. " Come now," I said, as- 
 suming, though I adm.it it was with an 
 effort, a tone of rough friendliness, " it 
 is getting near to mess-time. A new-comer 
 like you would get next to nothing, for 
 here feeding, like everything else, goes by 
 might rather than right, and the weakest 
 goes to the wall." 
 
 " What do they feed us on ? " he asked 
 indifferently. 
 
 " A filthy enough mess," I replied. 
 " Beans, black bread, rancid oil and bis- 
 cuit full of weevils."
 
 Friends and Comrades 
 
 " I don't want any," he said, and I saw 
 that his unaccustomed stomach turned at 
 the very thought of such food. 
 
 " Yes, but you will get over that," I urged. 
 " After a few days you will be as ready for 
 your meals as the rest of us. Hunger is a 
 fine sauce, comrade, and it is plentiful here. 
 I must have my dinner if you have no ob- 
 jection, for it is ten chances to one that for 
 the first week, I shall have to do your work 
 as well as my own. And I strongly advise 
 you to take your whack of the rations and 
 to eat them, even if at first you have almost 
 to choke yourself." 
 
 He upheaved himself with a sigh and 
 dragged himself across the court-yard be- 
 side me. He was unused to the chain and 
 ring which encircled his ankle, and he 
 walked as awkwardly as a bird which for 
 the first time finds itself prisoned by a 
 string to the leg. 
 
 It happened that day that the contents 
 of the mess-tub was more loathly than usual 
 and I saw that his very gorge rose at it. 
 I had no pity for him, not a bit ; he had 
 stolen my best chance of happiness from 
 
 135
 
 Grip 
 
 me, and why should he be left all the days 
 of his life to wallow in luxury and happi- 
 ness. Why should he not taste of Gethse- 
 mane as others had done before him ? 
 
 But it was not to my interest that he 
 should go foodless and so run every risk of 
 catching one or other of the pestilences 
 which from time to time decimated the 
 population of the Bagne. So I urged him 
 to choke down a few mouthfuls and told 
 him to show a brave front and be of good 
 cheer, for he would get used to it by and 
 by. "After all," I said, " what does one's 
 mere meat and drink matter ? It will be 
 all the same a hundred years hence whether 
 we have fed to-day off ortolans or beans 
 cooked in rancid oil." 
 
 "I don't know," he returned. "There 
 is a difference between a man who is well 
 fed, and a man who is famished ; just the 
 difference between living and dying." 
 
 " Comrade," I said quietly, " those who 
 sent you here, probably did so with an idea 
 that the life would kill you, that you would 
 die worn-out long before you had served 
 half your time. So they will be rid of you 
 136
 
 Friends and Comrades 
 
 and you will be out of their way and silenced 
 for ever. Don't play into their hands. 
 Say to yourself that you will live, no matter 
 how hard the life ; that you will eat, no 
 matter how poor the fare ; that you will 
 drink, no matter how small the tipple." 
 
 He made but a sorry business of his 
 dinner all the same and I gathered that he 
 had kept a chef (A no small reputation, so 
 that the privation fell doubly hard upon 
 him ! Not that it was for his food that he 
 repined as the days went on and he was 
 worn almost to skin and bone ; no, no, he 
 was my enemy but I would do him full 
 justice ; it was for his wife, the young wife 
 whose beauty had been sufficient to send 
 me headlong to the very devil, that he 
 yearned ! I pitied him, yes, I pitied him 
 even in those early days, for, much as he 
 had wronged me, his case was even worse 
 than mine ; she had been his wife for more 
 than two years she had never been more 
 to me than a desire. 
 
 However, be the cause of a man disin- 
 clination to eat, work, live, what it will, it 
 is all one to those who rule the roast at 
 
 137
 
 Grip 
 
 such a place as the Bagne of Toulon. A 
 certain amount of work is the portion of 
 ihe/orfat, and that work must be done so 
 long as life remains. At the end of three 
 days, when De Lancy was perceptibly weaker 
 and less physically fit for work even than 
 when he had arrived, we were ordered out 
 to join our gang. 
 
 It was an absurdity to speak half in 
 jest to put a man of De Lancy's physique 
 and position to the work that was allotted 
 to us that day. The main part of it fell 
 upon me or rather I might say that he was 
 able to do no more than the merest sem- 
 blance of labor. As a matter of fact, it was 
 the hauling of great blocks of stone for the 
 construction of a new dock, and at this 
 work De Lancy was not only no good, he 
 was an absolute detriment and only got in 
 my way, hindering me from as easily doing 
 the work of two as I could have done if I 
 had been alone. He tried his best, poor 
 creature, but he was weak yet from the 
 horror and degradation of the long march, 
 and he had not yet learned to manage the 
 chain which bound us together, so that we
 
 Friends and Comrades 
 
 were both in continual danger of being 
 tripped up. However, I managed to save 
 him from the consequences of so disastrous 
 an accident as that would have been, and 
 it was lucky for him that I did so, for the 
 gang of men working together would bitterly 
 have wreaked their vengeance on one who 
 had been the cause of a reprimand from the 
 garde-chiourme in charge of the party, and 
 even my superior strength for I was in- 
 comparably the strongest man of any class 
 in the Bagne would scarcely have served 
 to save him. 
 
 " Hyde " he said to me when we had 
 finished our day's work and were safely 
 locked up to the sloping boards which were 
 all our bed " I shall never be able to keep 
 on with this life. Think of going on for 
 twelve years " 
 
 " Yes, I know," I answered, " it's like an 
 eternity when you see it ahead of you. 
 But you've only got to live one day at a 
 time, you know." 
 
 " But such days," he said, with a shudder. 
 " Hyde, I shall never get out of this." 
 
 " So I felt just at first," I told him sooth-
 
 Grip 
 
 ingly. " I I wished a thousand things 
 that were against all my ideas of right and 
 wrong. But I've got almost used to it, you 
 see." 
 
 " Have you ? Well, yes, I suppose you 
 have. But then you're such a splendid 
 man " looking up at me with evident ad- 
 miration in his weary eyes. " Hyde, you 
 are a fine figure of a man." 
 
 I laughed aloud, not the pleasant laugh 
 of gratified vanity, but an echo from the 
 place where the fiends dwell. He admired 
 me ! Well it is a droll world, and the people 
 in it are a goodly match for the world they 
 live in. 
 
 " Oh, you may laugh," he said, in his 
 weary voice, " but it's true and you know 
 it. There's not a man here who can hold 
 a candle to you, while I am like a shrimp 
 beside you. And yet yet " 
 
 "You are attractive enough to some 
 people ; " I put in, " far more attractive than 
 my inches and red ugliness would ever be." 
 
 " How quick you are ! " he murmured. 
 " How could you know that I was thinking 
 of her ? " 
 
 140
 
 Friends and Comrades 
 
 " It was easy to take your meaning," I 
 replied carelessly. 
 
 " You are so quick," he exclaimed, the 
 note of admiration deepening. " And, 
 Hyde, you are better than that. You're 
 such a good fellow." 
 
 I said nothing ! What could I say ? I 
 hated him more than ever. I loathed him 
 I rejoiced in his presence because the mere 
 fact of his being a format like myself had 
 made us equal. If he had only been a 
 Hercules as I was, I would have revelled 
 in every little awkwardness into which he 
 was betrayed, in every twitch of the chain, 
 in every stumble he made ; I would have 
 revealed myself to him and I would have 
 added the pleasures of my anticipation to 
 all the other pains and penalties to which 
 he was doomed. As it was, I kept my own 
 counsel and held my peace, allowing him 
 to go on in his blind ignorance, believing 
 that I was a good fellow, even expressing 
 his admiration for my superior size and 
 strength. 
 
 And yet, how little he knew me, how ad- 
 mirably I must at that time have concealed 
 141
 
 Grip 
 
 my real feelings ; for we were from the hour 
 of our first talk by the well-side friends and 
 comrades. Friends and comrades ! Such 
 friendship as Judas might have felt for the 
 Man of Sorrows, such camaraderie as the 
 formats around us showed for one another 
 when they sold each other to stripes or even 
 to death ! 
 
 Still, although I was, I admit, actuated 
 by the basest and meanest of motives, by 
 the most deadly and virulent passion by 
 which the human race is capable of being 
 moved, I played the part of friend and com- 
 rade as thoroughly and as effectually as if I 
 had been possessed only of a desire to fur- 
 ther his interests and to save him as much 
 as possible from pain and tribulation. We 
 were friends and comrades, I bore his la- 
 bors and stood between him and a thou- 
 sand woes, and he he loved me I 
 
 But he did not make good progress either 
 in health or in growing accustomed to the 
 daily life of the Bagne. For one thing, he 
 could not eat, day after day I saw that he 
 sickened at the very sight of the mess which 
 was set before him ; day after day he left his 
 142
 
 Friends and Comrades 
 
 portion or I ate it, and the result was that 
 with each day he grew visibly weaker and 
 less able to keep pace with me, even though 
 I did all the work. 
 
 "De Lancy," I said to him at last, " if 
 you don't make an effort to get used to your 
 life here, you will die." 
 
 " I begin to think I shall," he replied 
 wearily. " I I can't help it, Hyde." 
 
 " You can help it if you try," I said 
 quietly. " A man" laying a very distinct 
 emphasis on the word, " can bring himself 
 to do anything. It is unworthy of you 
 an aristocrat a gentleman to let yourself 
 be snuffed out like that poor lad, Jean Le- 
 roy, who was with me first." 
 
 " You did your best for him, Hyde." 
 
 "Yes I did. But he was hopeless 
 his career was over ; he had no hope, noth- 
 ing to look forward to except starvation and 
 disgrace. He would have gone out of this 
 a marked man, incapable of earning an 
 honest living, and too cowardly to earn one 
 by wickedness ! It was better for him that 
 he died, poor lad, death was a merciful re- 
 lease, an easy way out of all his troubles. 
 
 143
 
 Grip 
 
 With you it is different. You are a politi- 
 cal prisoner your caste remains unbroken 
 your place in the world outside of France, 
 aye, and possibly in it, if the Government 
 should be changed, would not be touched 
 by your imprisonment here. You have 
 plenty of money, and plenty of interest in 
 life." 
 
 " You mean my wife my child." He 
 broke in almost eagerly. "Yes, Hyde, 
 you are right. You are right. And my 
 wife is lovely enough to draw a man through 
 a worse quagmire of desolation and de- 
 spondency than this is. You are right ! I 
 have a wife, a child, they are worth living 
 for you would say so ten times more if 
 you only knew her." 
 
 " But you do know her," I said dryly. 
 
 " So that I ought to keep her remem- 
 brance ever before me," he ended. "Yes 
 yes it is true, so true ; only she seems 
 such a long way off, as if she were in an- 
 other world altogether, as if I should get to 
 her the easiest by slipping all the fetters of 
 this world and just waiting till she came to 
 me there." 
 
 144
 
 Friends and Comrades 
 
 " But you don't know that she will ever 
 come to you in another world," I said, try- 
 ing to rouse him from this lethargy, which 
 I considered a highly dangerous symptom ; 
 " you don't know that there will be any other 
 world. " 
 
 " If not, I shall then know nothing," he 
 replied, turning his bright eyes upon me 
 with such a look as made me feel all at 
 once, that he was going to slip through my 
 fingers, after all. " And it would be better 
 to know nothing, to have the blessed peace- 
 fulness of oblivion than to go on like this. 
 I am a good Catholic," he went on, cross- 
 ing himself devoutly ; " I believe in the 
 consolations of religion, but I have never 
 wholly understood the fear and dread that 
 the priests tell us all men have of extinc- 
 tion. One had better be nothing than 
 suffer." 
 
 "But are you not too proud, you, an aris- 
 tocrat, to let such scum as these people here 
 get the better of you ? " I cried, trying to 
 rouse him otherwise. 
 
 " I was proud once," he answered in a 
 tired voice. I watched him for a while 
 10 145
 
 Grip 
 
 after he had fallen into a troubled doze that 
 night, and wondered whether in truth his 
 spirit was too thoroughly broken to be roused 
 again. By the light of the feeble lamp 
 swinging overhead for we were never left 
 in darkness, darkness like a cloak covering 
 a multitude of sins he certainly had the 
 appearance of a man marked for death. 
 His face was wan, his complexion was 
 waxen, his frame emaciated and the hol- 
 lows in his temples very deep and all a- 
 throb. I felt that he was slipping away 
 and that I could do nothing to stay the jour- 
 ney ! Then a desperate question put itself 
 before me : Should I, could I, by virtue 
 of my good character and the mark of 
 commendation against my name, seek to 
 have an interview with the Commandant ? 
 Should I tell him boldly that as things were 
 then going, De Lancy, was little, if any- 
 thing better, than a dead man ? 
 
 What served to rouse him out of his 
 apathy was the arrival of a letter which he 
 received at the end of his first three months 
 of imprisonment. 
 
 Of course, it was from his wife, from 
 146
 
 Friends and Comrades 
 
 Margaret, and he read it with trembling 
 hands and tear-stained eyes. And then he 
 thrust it away in the breast of his hideous 
 red waistcoat as if it was a treasure of 
 which all the world would wish to deprive 
 him. 
 
 " You had no letter, Hyde," he said to 
 me in his gentlest tone. 
 
 " I never have letters," I replied. 
 
 " Never ! Why, what are your people 
 thinking of ? " 
 
 " Of anything rather than that I am here," 
 I said. " Probably that I am dead." 
 
 " Then they don't know ? " 
 
 " No and they never will if I can help 
 it. Only one person holds any clue to my 
 whereabouts and when I am free, I mean 
 to silence him unless he silences me, when 
 it won't matter whether they know or not." 
 
 " Poor devil," said my enemy in a voice 
 full of pity. " What did he do to offend 
 you ? "
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BY A SIDE-WIND. 
 
 I COULD not refrain from laughing when 
 De Lancy put that question to me 
 " What did he do to offend you ? " The 
 whole stituation was so inexpressibly droll. 
 
 " He wronged me," I answered. " And 
 there are some wrongs which can only be 
 wiped out in blood." 
 
 "That is so," he admitted. Then he 
 put his hand into his bosom where the let- 
 ter from Margaret was, as if it was some- 
 thing that would be as a shield and a charm 
 to him. 
 
 " Hyde " he said at last with a curious 
 hesitancy "you have not asked me for 
 any news ; I I mean don't you take an 
 interest ? " 
 
 " God knows I do that," I returned 
 quickly, and it was true enough. 
 
 He did not say anything for a minute or 
 148
 
 By a Side-Wind 
 
 so ; then he looked up with a strange ra- 
 diance in his eyes. " Hyde," he said, " you 
 have been very good to me you have 
 spared me and saved me ; without you I 
 should have sunk under the life here, and I 
 should have died weeks ago. You put new 
 life, new heart into me. I feel now that 
 there is a possibility of getting through this 
 hell and of seeing my wife again, my wife 
 and my child, who is as if he has no father. 
 I can do little or nothing for you as long as 
 we are here but but can show you my 
 letter." 
 
 He drew it from his breast and offered 
 it to me. I put out my hand. " Nay," I 
 said, " put up your letter I don't want to 
 read it ; it's yours and yours alone. It 
 would only aggravate me. I have no one 
 to write such letters to me, you know." 
 
 He put the letter back in his breast 
 again with a deep breath, as if he was 
 thankful that I had refused to take advan- 
 tage of his sacrifice. I must admit that I 
 had not been swayed only by unselfishness 
 in doing so, because, in truth, I had no 
 desire " to look into happiness through an- 
 149
 
 Grip 
 
 other man's eyes." And wretched as De 
 Lancy's plight was, his satisfaction and 
 happiness in his letter were simply un- 
 bounded. My case was bad enough, my 
 isolation sufficiently complete, without my 
 deliberately doing that which would make 
 my time of waiting almost impossible of 
 support, well-nigh unbearable. And the 
 letter was from Margaret ! 
 
 Yet I felt that I must speak. I must 
 say something. 
 
 "You have good news? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes as good as could be ! My wife 
 is well as well, she says, as she will ever 
 be till I am with her again. And the child 
 is thriving grandly. You see the strong 
 Yorkshire air " 
 
 " What, she is in Yorkshire ? " I ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " She writes from Thorpe-Hutton, her 
 father's place," he replied, all unsuspect- 
 ing of what his words had conveyed to me. 
 " When I was arrested, I wished her to go 
 home. I knew that she would be safest 
 among her own people, whatever might be- 
 fall me. She says it is a beautiful place."
 
 By a Side-Wind 
 
 " You have never been there ? " 
 " Never ! We came to France as soon 
 as we were married, and we never went 
 over to England again. For one thing 
 Margaret was ill in the early days of our 
 life together. And then the following 
 summer all her family came over to France 
 and stayed with us on my estate on the 
 Rhone in Ardeche. We had talked of 
 going back to England at this time, and of 
 spending Christmas at Thorpe- Hutton. 
 However, it was not to be, and my poor 
 Margaret returned to her old home worse 
 than a widow. She says I cannot imagine 
 how strange it is to her to be back in all 
 the haunts of her childhood, with only the 
 baby to remind her that the past is not all 
 a dream." 
 
 I did not answer ! We were enjoying 
 the midday hour of rest. I was sitting on 
 a block of stone which we were engaged 
 in shaping, and De Lancy was sitting on the 
 ground, his back propped against a similar 
 block. So I sat there amid the unlovely 
 surroundings of a prison stone-yard, while 
 my mind conjured up a vision of Margaret
 
 Grip 
 
 as I had seen her last, of Margaret once 
 more flitting in and out of the wainscotted 
 rooms at Thorpe-Hutton, of Margaret pass- 
 ing down the great avenue of chestnuts, of 
 Margaret sitting in the great square pew of 
 the little old church with its dumpy tower 
 and walls of yellow ochre ! It was too 
 painful a picture, and I shook myself free 
 of such recollections with a gesture of im- 
 patience. 
 
 " They are very gay in those quiet York- 
 shire places," I said, seeing that he was 
 looking at me in surprise. I felt con- 
 strained to say something and I blurted out 
 the first thought that came into my mind. 
 
 " So she says ; but she is going nowhere 
 as yet. She tells me but listen 'The 
 only place I have been to by way of visit- 
 ing is to Somersley, which belongs to Sir 
 Robert Somers, who is my father's nearest 
 neighbor and greatest friend. I don't think 
 I shall go again. The girls are both mar- 
 ried and not often there, and only Wynne, 
 the youngest boy of all, is at home. He is 
 preparing for the Church, as there are liv- 
 ings to think of. The dear old Squire is a 
 
 '52
 
 By a Side-Wind 
 
 good deal altered since William's death ; 
 and George, the third son the one who 
 used to be my old sweetheart is abroad ; 
 and they, the girls, who were both at home 
 for Christmas, warned me not to ask for 
 him, as Sir Robert has never forgiven him 
 for selling out of the Service for some un- 
 explained reason. My conscience smites 
 me sorely about poor George, and I scarce 
 liked to look Sir Robert in the face. If e 
 was just the same to me, you know, except- 
 ing that he is so dull and unlike his old 
 self. His sister-in-law, Miss Greville, whom 
 we have always called " Aunt Eliza," was 
 very stiff with me, and but gave me the 
 tips of her fingers. Poor old lady, I dare- 
 say she thinks it a terrible disgrace to have 
 a husband a political prisoner. Anyway, 
 I don't think that I shall go over to Som- 
 ersley again for a long time. My little 
 Claude is company enough for me.' " 
 
 I heard it all, the news of my own home 
 and my own people, without, I believe, 
 moving so much as a muscle of my face. 
 So Rachel was married I wondered to 
 whom ? And Bill was dead good, steady,
 
 Grip 
 
 kind old Bill and I knew not when he had 
 died, nor from what cause ! And Sir Rob- 
 ert, my good old father, was so changed 
 that Margaret hardly knew him ; he never 
 spoke of me. Bluff and sturdy Aunt Eliza 
 was still to the front, and she had not for- 
 gotten the past, nor brought herself to be 
 over and above civil to the girl who had 
 wronged me. Good old Aunt Eliza ! She 
 was faithful and true to her graceless god- 
 son, even though more than two years had 
 gone by since she had heard a single word 
 of me. Dear old Aunt Eliza ! I knew as 
 well as if I had actually been at Somersley, 
 that there was no thought in her mind of 
 disgrace or of imprisonment, but that Mar- 
 garet's first offence, that of slighting me, 
 was still in her mind. And Margaret had 
 not wholly forgotten her conscience was 
 tender. 
 
 "Then there was another lover?" I 
 said, feeling that he was waiting for me to 
 speak. 
 
 "Well, scarcely a lover. A boyish 
 sweetheart nothing to touch her heart," 
 he said, carelessly.
 
 By a Side- Wind 
 
 " Or his ! " I rejoined. I could not help 
 speaking bitterly. 
 
 " Possibly. Anyway, in these matters 
 the men must abide by the lady's wishes ! 
 If he was the kind of young man who 
 could abandon his career, and break his 
 father's heart because the girl he fancied 
 preferred another, he was certainly not fit 
 to be the husband of any young girl, to 
 say nothing of her being one of so sen- 
 sitive and so dependent a nature as Mar- 
 garet's. Oh, I don't waste much pity over 
 him, I assure you. Ah," with a heavy sigh 
 " there is the whistle." 
 
 In another moment the great yard was 
 all astir \vithforfats getting to work again, 
 and we too had no further time for conver- 
 sation. But I had leisure, aye, and to 
 spare, for thinking, and my thoughts were 
 all bitter as I chipped and chipped at the 
 great block of stone. So he had no pity 
 to waste over Margaret's early lover ! In 
 such matters men must abide by the lady's 
 wishes ! And he could even, from his posi- 
 tion of abject wretchedness and humilia- 
 
 '55
 
 Grip 
 
 tion, find scathing words of condemnation 
 and reproof for me ! 
 
 I looked at him as he awkwardly plied 
 his tools, and I hated him more than 
 ever ! How dared he be the one to judge 
 me, and to judge me out of his knowledge 
 of me, which was but partial, and acquired 
 at second-hand ? I hated him I hated 
 him ! My whole soul seemed to rise up in 
 arms and to revolt against the idea of 
 doing another hand's turn to serve him, 
 even though it was to save him for the 
 purposes of my own vengeance. 
 
 Thus I became more and more set on 
 one day meeting De Lancy face to face and 
 on terms of absolute equality, of demanding 
 my chance of wiping out my wrong in 
 blood. I conquered myself of the almost 
 irresistible inclination to do nothing more 
 to help him, of the impulse to declare my 
 identity and to avow myself his open ene- 
 my, and by the time we had ceased work 
 for the day, I was to all outward seeming 
 his friend and comrade as of yore. 
 
 True, I had left him almost alone, and 
 he was tired out by the time we had got 
 
 '56
 
 By a Side-Wind 
 
 back to the long vestibule in which we ate 
 our appetizing supper. And later, when 
 we were once more chained up to our bed 
 of planks, he sank off to sleep, a happy 
 smile on his face, his hand clutching at 
 his breast where the letter was ! I leaned 
 on my elbow watching him for a longtime; 
 and how I hated him ! I believe, too, that 
 I hated her ! 
 
 I did not sleep much that night ! You 
 see, I had, by a side-wind it is true, been 
 unexpectedly brought in touch with my own 
 people and my home life. I had existed 
 for two years almost content to be without 
 letters and without news of them ; but now 
 that the ice was once broken, I yearned 
 fiercely for something more, for a letter of 
 my own, for a direct communication with 
 my own kith and kin ! 
 
 As I watched him, he started in his sleep 
 and such a smile of surprise and delight 
 overspread his face that I knew he was 
 dreaming of Margaret. And I was almost 
 sorry that my sense of honor was too strong 
 for me to throttle the life out of him as he 
 lay.
 
 Grip 
 
 As the days went by I consoled myself 
 with the idea that it would be at least three 
 months before any fresh news could come 
 to me, or before I could be tortured in the 
 same way again. But I was wrong ! I had 
 forgotten that De Lancy had permission to 
 write to his wife at stated times and it was 
 not very long before the first of these in- 
 dulgences came due. 
 
 The greater part of the wretched deni- 
 zens of the Bagne could neither read nor 
 write and were therefore obliged to call in the 
 good offices of a letter-writer. De Lancy, 
 naturally not being one of these, wrote his 
 own letter and spent several hours the 
 precious midday hour for repose over it. 
 " They will read every word of it," I re- 
 minded him. 
 
 " They may I have said nothing that 
 could be called incriminating," he replied. 
 
 " Don't say much about me." 
 
 " Why not ! " 
 
 " Because if you say much they may 
 separate us." 
 
 " I never thought of that. I was going 
 to tell my wife everything that you have 
 
 158
 
 By a Side- Wind 
 
 done for me. But the risk is too great. 
 Hyde, what should I do without you ? " 
 
 " We won't go into that, comrade," I said 
 quietly. 
 
 He went on with his letter, writing very 
 closely, so as to use up every scrap of his 
 allowance of paper. And when he had 
 finished, he said to me " I have told her 
 nothing excepting that my chain-comrade 
 is an Englishman and that his name is 
 Charles Hyde." 
 
 " That is good. By the way, do you 
 write in French or in English ? 
 
 " In French. Were I to write in English, 
 the letter would have to go to the trans- 
 lator and would probably be stopped. My 
 wife speaks and understands French per- 
 fectly. 
 
 I pondered not a little, wondering what 
 Margaret would think if she knew that her 
 letter had sent news of his family to her 
 first sweetheart, George Somers ? How 
 intense would be her astonishment could 
 she but learn that the Charles Hyde, who 
 was her husband's chain-comrade, was 
 none other than the playfellow of her 
 
 '59
 
 Grip 
 
 young days, the George Somers whose 
 father never spoke of him and for whose 
 sake my doughty old Aunt Eliza had scarce 
 given her a finger in greeting. Well, she 
 would know some day ; till then, I would 
 wait. As I had waited in the past, so 
 would I in the present patiently abide un- 
 til the time was ripe. 
 
 160
 
 Days, and Weeks, and Months 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DAYS, AND WEEKS, AND MONTHS! 
 
 IT must not be imagined that having 
 got over the first few weeks of life 
 in the Bagne, De Lancy went straight on 
 and settled down quietly to getting through 
 his time ; far from it. Indeed, from time 
 to time, it seemed as if he had neither heart 
 nor strength to go on, and that he would 
 find it a positive relief to feel his head 
 under the knife of the guillotine. 
 
 " I cannot stand the food," he said to me 
 over and over again. " I cannot stand the 
 monotony, the eternal round which never 
 changes and makes one day so like another 
 that one does not know if it is to-day or 
 to-morrow. The continual attitude of sub- 
 serviency and subserviency to such brutes 
 too. I cannot stand out against it any 
 longer." 
 
 ii 161
 
 Grip 
 
 " You must stand out against it," I urged 
 upon him one day. 
 
 " No I cannot. Only this morning that 
 brute struck at me with his cane because I 
 did not move fast enough to please his 
 greatness. You saw it for yourself, Hyde." 
 
 " Yes, I saw it. How could I help it ? " 
 I replied. 
 
 " If I had been free," he muttered be- 
 tween his teeth, " I would have cracked his 
 head for him. Gad, I would." 
 
 " When I was free I did indulge myself 
 in cracking a policeman's skull," I re- 
 marked. " And here I am in consequence. 
 I've wished the skull whole again a-many 
 times, I promise you." 
 
 " Besides " he went on, stretching him- 
 self wearily " I should at least have the 
 satisfaction of making an end of Pierre 
 Lebrun." 
 
 " And of going to the guillotine yours elf," 
 I rejoined quickly. " And where would be 
 the satisfaction in that? I can quite un- 
 derstand your wife's feeling that there is no 
 disgrace in your being a political prisoner, 
 and her feeling the foolishness of my I 
 
 162
 
 Days, and Weeks, and Months 
 
 mean that I can quite understand your 
 wife feeling that it was foolish of the lady 
 whom she fancied met her coldly on that 
 account. But to have a husband a politi- 
 cal prisoner is one thing, and to have a 
 husband who died under the guillotine, for 
 insubordination and mutiny against rec- 
 ognized authority, is quite a different 
 matter." 
 
 He did not speak for a few minutes, so 
 I went on. " You don't happen to have 
 seen a flogging here yet," I said. " I have. 
 You're a gentleman, half an Englishman ; 
 I don't want to see you flogged as they 
 flogged that poor lad, Leroy. And they 
 must have known that he was dying," I 
 added. 
 
 Somehow, my heart always went down 
 when I thought of the past and of the weak 
 lad's sufferings at, save the mark, the 
 hands of justice ! In a moment my mind 
 had conjured up the vision of his ghastly 
 face bleached by fear and pain of every 
 vestige of color, of his poor narrow cring- 
 ing rabbit's back torn and scored by the 
 cruel thong of the tar-plaited whip ! And 
 
 163
 
 Grip 
 
 I had stood by, in silence perforce, because 
 I could not, must not interfere, for by so 
 doing I should only have added further 
 punishment to him, who could so ill bear 
 what had been apportioned out to him al- 
 ready. De Lancy knew my feeling pretty 
 well on this subject and the pain it was to 
 me to cast my memory back over that part 
 of my life, and after a while he spoke. 
 
 " Hyde " he said, in a shaking voice 
 " you are a good fellow, the best I have 
 ever known in all my life." 
 
 " No don't say that," I said hurriedly. 
 
 " But I do say it I mean it. I don't 
 like to think what sort of plight I should be 
 in if I were here without you, without you 
 to act as a check upon my wrong-headed- 
 ness. Forgive me, Hyde. I'll do my best 
 for your sake." 
 
 So the temptation to break out was tided 
 over once more and De Lancy went on 
 with the struggle. I worked with desper- 
 ate energy at this time so that too much 
 should not fall upon him, for in his poor 
 state of health, with his nerves all shattered 
 and his heart always yearning fiercely for 
 164
 
 Days, and Weeks, and Months 
 
 freedom and his wife, he was always in 
 danger of breaking out anew and of com- 
 mitting himself to what would have been 
 certain death. There was one great ad- 
 vantage in the companionship of the chain, 
 which was a great set-off against the disad- 
 vantage of being more or less at the mercy 
 of another man's will day and night. It 
 was that I was always at his elbow, so that 
 he was not given opportunities of getting 
 into trouble, as he would probably have 
 done had I not been by to speak a warning 
 word or to lay a restraining hand on his 
 arm when I saw the scarlet danger-signals 
 mounting to his face. 
 
 In spite of his English blood and the 
 English are supposed to keep cool heads 
 on all occasions his temperament had 
 much in it of his Southern race ; he never 
 learned to control himself. He did manage 
 to keep himself under control, but never on 
 his own initiative. 
 
 Now I, on the contrary, had above all 
 things learned endurance. At home, at 
 Somersley, they had always called me hot- 
 tempered, and my father had more than
 
 Grip 
 
 once shaken his head over me and had 
 said " George George I don't know 
 what that headlong nature of yours will 
 bring you to ! " Well, it had brought me 
 to the Bagne of Toulon, and I many a time 
 thanked God that Sir Robert did not know 
 it. 
 
 Still, if my ill-luck had done nothing 
 else, it had taught me to perfection how to 
 endure ; a hot temper and impatience of 
 restraint might have brought me to the 
 Bag, but the Bagne had taught me how 
 to accept ill-fortune with the coolness of a 
 stoic ; it had taught me to pass by insult 
 and contumely with a face betraying noth- 
 ing of the inward fury which possessed me ; 
 it had taught me perfect command of my. 
 self. 
 
 I can scarcely explain how strange and 
 conflicting were my feelings towards De 
 Lancy ! I was torn in opposite ways, I 
 was actuated by my hatred, which had 
 grown to be as a part of myself, the one 
 thing that I had to live for, the only thing 
 which had made me, from the very moment 
 of my unfortunate encounter with the gens de 
 166
 
 Days, and Weeks, and Months 
 
 police, Jean Duval, set myself to one steady 
 end and aim ; and on the other hand, I 
 was moved by my profound pity for his 
 weakness and his pride, both of race and 
 place, which made it difficult, difficult, aye 
 and almost impossible, for him to cringe 
 and bow to men who were in every sense 
 his inferiors. Through many weary days 
 and weeks, I was conscious that, but for 
 the deadly hatred which flourished in my 
 heart, I should have loved De Lancy as I 
 had never known what it was to love the 
 poor craven lad, Jean Leroy. In my feel- 
 ing towards him pity had been akin to love ; 
 as regards Desmond de Lancy the senti- 
 ment was ever uppermost that if I hated 
 him myself, I yet did not wish to see him 
 put upon or maltreated by others. I had 
 the hatred of a gentleman for a gentleman 
 but when these prison scum came in, I 
 had first of all the instinctive sense that 
 men of class must stand by one another. 
 
 So the days and weeks went on, their 
 
 monotony unbroken excepting by horrors, 
 
 for if I had apparently got well used to the 
 
 life of the Bagne, if I had succeeded in 
 
 167
 
 Grip 
 
 quelling outbreak after outbreak as they 
 arose in the hot Southern heart of my 
 comrade of the chain, others there were 
 and in plenty who found existence so wholly 
 insupportable that they were glad to end 
 it in any way ! There was only one way in 
 the Bagne of Toulon ! 
 
 At last the time came round for De Lancy 
 to receive another letter, or I should more 
 correctly say that the time came round 
 when he should by rights have received 
 his third letter since his arrival at Toulon. 
 The time for the second one had passed in 
 silence and disappointment, but when the 
 end of another three months drew near and 
 De Lancy had almost persuaded himself 
 that Margaret had forgotten him, that she 
 was ill, even dead, any and every excuse 
 excepting that of faithlessness, a letter 
 came. 
 
 " Hyde," he said to me, " I dare not 
 open it." 
 
 " Nonsense ! You know the writing ? " 
 
 " It is from her." 
 
 I laughed aloud, the bitter laugh that his 
 mention of Margaret always provoked. 
 1 68
 
 Days, and Weeks, and Months 
 
 "Tush, man, don't be faint-hearted. If 
 'tis good news, you will be the better for it ; 
 if bad, the quicker 'tis over the better." 
 
 His hands trembled violently as he 
 opened the closely-written sheet, and he 
 began to read with eager eyes, throwing out 
 little scraps of information as he scanned 
 the words. " She is well praise to God 
 Yes she did write. Concludes as she has 
 not heard that her letter was stopped. Ah, 
 the brutes, how could they have the heart 
 to do it?" 
 
 So he read his letter, and then, just as 
 he was getting near to the end, he turned 
 to me, with quite a new expression on his 
 face and said, " Hyde are you one of 
 the Hydes of Pakenfield ? " 
 169
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FRIENDS OUT OF THE UNKNOWN. 
 
 WHEN De Lancy asked me that plain 
 question " Are you one of the 
 Hydes of Pakenfield ? " I felt all on a 
 sudden as if the very world was crumbling 
 away from beneath my feet. 
 
 I had, however, sufficient presence of 
 mind to answer him without showing the 
 consternation which I truly felt. 
 
 "Pakenfield?" I said, "I never heard 
 of the place. No, I don't belong to that 
 family. What makes you ask ? " 
 
 " My wife says ' Try to find out if your 
 comrade is a Hyde of Pakenfield ! I 
 met a Mrs. Hyde a few weeks ago who is 
 in great anxiety about her only son, who is 
 called Charles Hyde. He went abroad 
 to Paris about two and a half years ago, 
 and she has absolutely lost sight of him. 
 170
 
 Friends Out of the Unknown 
 
 There is a large estate depending on him 
 and it will pass to a cousin if the son does 
 not return. But at present all is at a stand- 
 still, and, as Mrs. Hyde says, she is broken- 
 hearted, hoping always against hope, not 
 daring either to look for the best or to 
 acknowledge the worst.' " 
 
 I had no doubt at all in my own mind 
 that the young man whom this lady sought 
 was the Charles Hyde under whose pass- 
 port and whose name I had hidden my 
 identity. But situated as I was, I did not 
 see that I could very well say so. Of 
 course, I was extremely sorry for the poor 
 lady's anxiety and any information that I 
 had to give was not such as would tend to 
 make her any the happier. For Charles 
 Hyde was dead had indeed died before I 
 ever heard of him. 
 
 True, my little Israelitish friend, Jules 
 Ferrand, probably knew how and when and 
 where he had come by his end, and it did 
 not suit me nay, rather, it was absolutely 
 impossible for me to put the lady in com- 
 munication with Jules Ferrand. Probably 
 the direct result of such a course would 
 171
 
 Grip 
 
 have been that I should have found myself 
 indicted on a fresh charge and have been 
 condemned to a new term of the travaux 
 forces, which would assuredly not run con- 
 jointly with that which I was, at that very 
 moment, working out. And though I had 
 been trained from my childhood in gallan- 
 try towards the fair sex, I did not see my 
 way to carrying the principle so far as that. 
 " I am sure I am very sorry for the poor 
 lady," I said with a concerned air, "but 
 indeed I am not the young man she seeks. 
 For some, nay, for many things I wish I 
 were, for I should at least have an estate of 
 my own to go home to instead of being, as 
 I am, never likely to have greater landed 
 interest than to the extent of six feet by 
 three. Of course, as a matter of fact who- 
 ever undertakes the office of providing me 
 with a grave will have actually to endow me 
 with a few inches more, but that is beside 
 the question. Pray tell your wife, when 
 you write to her again, to disabuse the poor 
 lady's mind of any lingering hope she may 
 have that in me she has found a clue to her 
 son's whereabouts. My father was a coun- 
 172
 
 Friends Out of the Unknown 
 
 try gentleman unable to give me either es- 
 tate or any considerable sum of money to 
 my fortune, and I have not a single Hyde 
 relation in all the world." 
 
 " But you have relations ? " he said ques- 
 tioningly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, but they are not called Hyde." 
 
 " I see ; you have relations on your 
 mother's side. Is your mother living ? " 
 
 " No. She died many years ago." 
 
 " Ah ! And you have lost your father 
 too," he said pityingly. 
 
 I had never said so, but I let the remark 
 pass without comment ; it made no differ- 
 ence to him whether my father was living 
 or dead. 
 
 " I have often wondered," he went on 
 dreamily, " how it was that you never spoke 
 of your people or of your past life. Now, 
 I have told you everything that there is to 
 tell about myself, all about my own place, 
 my youth, my experiences in England, my 
 wife and her family, everything. Why is it 
 that you have never put any confidence in 
 me?" 
 
 " I never have anything to tell," I replied.
 
 Grip 
 
 "I did not think that you would find my 
 past interesting." 
 
 " Everything outside these walls is inter- 
 esting," he rejoined bitterly. " Hyde, I 
 hope with all my heart, that I have not 
 wearied you." 
 
 "Not the least in the world. On the 
 contrary, I have always been deeply inter- 
 ested in everything that you have told 
 me." 
 
 It was true enough, and he murmured 
 something to the effect that he was glad. 
 " I am not a communicative man," I went 
 on. " My disposition is altogether differ- 
 ent to yours, I don't feel any desire to un- 
 burden myself to any one." 
 
 " Ah, you are a lucky fellow in one sense, 
 you have nothing of which to unburden 
 yourself." 
 
 I did not argue the point ; where would 
 have been the good ? But I repeated my 
 assertion that I was not Charles Hyde of 
 Pakenfield and that I had never in all my life 
 heard of the place, and added, that I hoped 
 he would ask his wife to set the poor lady's 
 mind at rest on the subject without the de- 
 
 174
 
 Friends Out of the Unknown 
 
 lay of a moment after she received the in- 
 telligence. He promised that he would do 
 so, but reminded me that some weeks would 
 elapse ere he would have leave to write. 
 "But you, Hyde," he suggested eagerly, 
 " you have never written a letter since you 
 came to this place. Why do not you write 
 to my wife ? It would set the poor lady's 
 mind at rest a good deal sooner and it 
 would give my wife news of me." 
 
 I laughed outright, for the idea of my 
 writing to Margaret in order that she might 
 have news a little sooner of her husband 
 was extremely droll ! Besides, the caligra- 
 phy would betray me at once ; Margaret 
 would not have forgotten the handwriting 
 of her old sweetheart and and any- 
 way, I could never bring myself to do it. 
 " No, comrade, no, I would rather not put 
 pen to paper here. A. format like myself, 
 has no right to address a lady and without 
 permission. It is very sad that my name- 
 sake's mother should remain in suspense, 
 but it cannot be helped ; she must wait 
 umtil you write to your wife again." 
 
 " You need not think of that. I will 
 '75
 
 Grip 
 
 answer for it that your letter will be wel- 
 come." 
 
 " Yes, yes, but it is quite impossible for 
 me to do it." 
 
 " Well, if you would rather not " he 
 
 began, when I cut the discussion short. 
 
 " Truly, I would rather not," I said, and 
 I spoke in a tone which admitted of no 
 further argument. 
 
 De Lancy said not a single word more, 
 but swallowed down his disappointment 
 like the gentleman he was. I hated him, 
 he had ruined my life, but I am bound to 
 say as I was fain to confess to myself then, 
 that he was a gentleman " core through," as 
 Yorkshire folk say. 
 
 Still, although I thought that I had dis- 
 posed of any further questioning concern- 
 ing Charles Hyde of Pakenfield, I was 
 altogether mistaken. A few weeks had 
 gone by, the time when De Lancy might 
 write a letter had come and the letter had 
 been written and despatched, when one 
 day, towards the end of the long afternoon, 
 an urgent summons came for us to go im- 
 mediately to the Commandant's bureau ! 
 176
 
 Friends Out of the Unknown 
 
 "Something has happened," said De 
 Lancy. 
 
 "Nothing unusual has happened here, 
 so unless they want some information out 
 of one of us, it must be something from 
 outside," I replied. 
 
 " Hyde," he said, in a tremulous voice, 
 " do you think she is dead ? " 
 
 " No they would not take the trouble 
 to break such news as that. You would 
 hear in the ordinary way through a letter," 
 I replied. " Why, man, you are shaking ! 
 Pluck up your spirit and wait till you know 
 the worst." 
 
 I said everything that I could to re- 
 assure him as we went towards the Com- 
 mandant's bureau in charge of our warder, 
 Pierre Lebrun. He entered the lobby be- 
 fore us and, knocking at the door, awaited 
 the order to enter. Then he bade us by 
 a gesture pass in and, following himself, 
 closed the door behind us, waiting at atten- 
 tion until the Commandant should speak. 
 I saw that there were two ladies, one a 
 good deal older than the other, sitting on 
 the other side of the bureau, while on the 
 12 177
 
 Grip 
 
 Commandant's table there lay a very offi- 
 cial looking paper to which were attached 
 several seals. 
 
 " Which of these men is Charles Hyde ? " 
 the Commandant asked. He called it 
 ' Sharl 'Yde ' and I know that he knew us 
 both particularly well, especially De Lancy, 
 who was a political prisoner of great im- 
 portance. It was, however, his way of 
 making De Lancy feel that he was one of 
 a crowd and that his identity had been 
 completely blotted out. 
 
 Pierre Lebrun indicated that I was the 
 person alluded to and the older of the two 
 ladies gave a sigh and said " This is not 
 my son oh, no ! " and then the tears came 
 into her eyes and she whipped out her 
 handkerchief and presently said : " Gine- 
 vra ask him tell him why we came ! Tell 
 him that I have promised not to talk to 
 him in English." 
 
 The younger lady explained to me in 
 fairly fluent French the French of an 
 Englishwoman that Mrs. Hyde had been 
 seeking news of her son for nearly three 
 years and that hearing of my name from 
 178
 
 Friends Out of the Unknown 
 
 Madame la Comtesse de Lancy, she had 
 with great difficulty obtained permission to 
 visit the prison in order to satisfy herself 
 beyond any possibility of doubt, as to 
 whether it was her son who was there or not. 
 
 " I am very sorry, madame," I replied, 
 "that I am not this lady's son, though 
 possibly she would rather find him any- 
 where else than here." 
 
 " My aunt is sorry too, for she has 
 sought her son for a long, long time and 
 suspense is very hard to bear," the young 
 lady said sorrowfully. 
 
 " Ask him whether he is any connection 
 of the Hydes of Pakenfield, Ginevra," put 
 in the older lady eagerly. 
 
 The lady whose name was Ginevra re- 
 peated the question in French. I replied 
 in the same tongue which, by that time, 
 I spoke fluently, and owing to my compan- 
 ionship with De Lancy, with a perfect ac- 
 cent that to my knowledge I was not in 
 anyway connected with the family at Paken- 
 field. 
 
 " But he is a gentleman, Ginevra,'' the 
 old lady broke in. 
 
 179
 
 Grip 
 
 I admitted that I had been born of a 
 respectable position in life. 
 
 "Ask him what he did to get himself 
 here, Ginevra?" 
 
 " Madame," I said bowing, after the 
 question had duly been repeated to me in 
 French, " I had the misfortune to knock the 
 skull of a gens de police against the wall, and, 
 to my regret, I knocked it a little too hard." 
 
 " What, you killed him ? " exclaimed the 
 young lady, asking a question for the first 
 time on her own initiative. 
 
 " I am sorry to say I did," I returned 
 politely. 
 
 I did not altogether see why she should 
 want to be asking me, whom she had never 
 seen before, questions about my purely pri- 
 vate concerns. However, she repeated both 
 question and answer to the aunt, who made 
 such a sturdy comment thereon, that I felt 
 quite sorry that I could not claim some sort 
 of kinship with her. 
 
 " Pah," she remarked scornfully. " I 
 
 have no doubt that the policeman richly 
 
 deserved it. Policemen should not be so 
 
 keen of interfering with gentlemen. I am 
 
 180
 
 Friends Out of the Unknown 
 
 sure my poor Charley would very much 
 have resented a policeman's interfering 
 with him. Tell this young gentleman, 
 Ginevra, that I sympathize with him in 
 his present situation very much, and that 
 if, when he is free, I can do anything to 
 serve him, he need only write to me at 
 Pakenfield, Gloucester, and I am at his 
 service, for my dear boy's sake." 
 
 I waited until all this, or rather I should 
 say the latter part of this, had been trans- 
 lated to me before I bowed and said that I 
 would remember her kindness with grati- 
 tude all my life. 
 
 " And tell him, Ginevra," the old lady 
 went on, " that for my dear boy's sake, my 
 dear boy who has the same name as his, I 
 would like to make him a present it will 
 come useful to him here." As she spoke 
 she held out a purse of dark blue silk with 
 gold rings and gold tassels at either end, 
 through the meshes of which gold was also 
 shining. I made a gesture of refusal. 
 " God bless you for your kind thought, 
 madame, but I cannot take money from 
 you," I said huskily. 
 
 181
 
 Grip 
 
 " Nay, but take it. It will be a com- 
 fort to my aunt and to her friend who 
 sent her here, to feel that you have not 
 refused the only gift it was possible 
 to make you just now. Do not refuse 
 her." 
 
 I hesitated and looked towards the Com- 
 mandant for instructions. He caught my 
 look and perhaps he remembered that I 
 was a highly commended prisoner. Any- 
 way, he put up his hand with a debonnaire 
 gesture Frenchmen always play up before 
 the women and said gruffly, " But cer- 
 tainly, take the little gift the lady is kind 
 enough to offer you. Mon Dieu, but our 
 for fats are getting too scrupulous for ex- 
 pression." 
 
 I thrust the dainty purse into my bosom 
 and bowed low to the old lady. " Will you 
 say to madame," I said to the one who 
 was called Ginevra, " that her kindness 
 touches me to the quick. When I am free, 
 I will seek her out, for I may be able to 
 serve her. Meantime, T am as much her 
 servant as a prisoner at the Bagne can 
 be." 
 
 182
 
 Friends Out of the Unknown 
 
 " Very prettily turned for an English- 
 man," remarked the Commandant with a 
 sneer. " You can go." 
 
 183
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 PARTED. 
 
 DE LANCY'S eyes were blazing with 
 excitement when we got back to our 
 own quarters again and he turned upon me 
 almost fiercely. " Hyde," he said eagerly, 
 " my wife made that purse." 
 
 " Very likely," I answered. " But wait 
 till we are alone and unobserved so that 
 we can examine it. It is likely enough 
 that we may discover some clue hidden 
 away to tell us. If we look at it now, we 
 may soon find ourselves done out of it all." 
 
 " Anyway, the money is yours but if she 
 made it, Hyde, I would like to have the 
 purse." 
 
 " It is all yours." I returned. 
 
 " No no. I won't have a penny of it, 
 not so much as a penny," he declared 
 eagerly. 
 
 " For the other, wait till all is quiet." 
 184
 
 Parted 
 
 We talked a good deal of the poor dis- 
 appointed lady who was seeking her son, 
 and De Lancy remarked on the strange- 
 ness of our names being so precisely simi- 
 lar. " Your age too," he added. 
 
 " Hyde is a common enough name in 
 England," I said, with an assumption of 
 complete indifference. " And Charleses 
 grow like blackberries on a bramble-bush." 
 
 At last when the Bagne was all fairly 
 quiet and we were as free from observa- 
 tion as we ever were, I drew the purse 
 from my bosom, and taking great care that 
 the coins which it contained should not 
 chink one against another, examined the 
 contents. As I expected there was a roll 
 of gold Napoleons at one end, and at the 
 other a little case of gilt cardboard, with a 
 Napoleon stuck at either end, so as to 
 form a tiny receptacle between. " This is 
 for you," I said, handing it to him. 
 
 He wrenched it open with eager fingers 
 and drew out a letter closely written on 
 very thin paper. " A letter," he said in his 
 most eager voice. " I knew it. And with- 
 out surveillance."
 
 Grip 
 
 He read it, nay, devoured it would be a 
 better word, giving me bits of information 
 as he read. " Yes she worked it herself 
 I knew it, Hyde, I knew it," and then 
 the poor fool fell to kissing the silken purse 
 as if it had been a living thing and could 
 feel and return his caresses. 
 
 " And she says " he went on, " that 
 she and Mrs. Hyde have filled the purse 
 between them so that we may share and 
 share alike. They have sent as much as 
 they dared; they were afraid to excite 
 suspicion by putting in too much." 
 
 I had already counted the money over 
 and found that there were twenty Napo- 
 leons in my hand. Twenty Napoleons." I 
 said " Well, I haven't had a fairing for 
 many a long year and I never thought to 
 have another Some day, I will pay that 
 handsome old lady back again in one form 
 if not in another, that is if she lives until 
 I get out of this, which I must say she 
 looks like doing." 
 
 Those twenty Napoleons made a vast 
 difference to De Lancy. For myself I was 
 strong and hardy. I was perfectly content 
 186
 
 Parted 
 
 to go on as I had done for three years 
 past. 
 
 But he had never got used to the food, 
 and indeed ate so little that it was a wonder 
 to me that he was able to keep body and 
 soul together. If one had money, it was 
 possible to purchase a few luxuries and, 
 much against his inclination, I insisted on 
 all the money being put by for him. 
 
 " You are piling up my debt to an un- 
 conscionable height, Hyde," he said on the 
 first day that we paid a visit to the canteen 
 and I resolutely refused to touch a morsel 
 of the sausage which we had bought. 
 
 " I'll ask you to pay your debt in full 
 some day," I said quietly. 
 
 " And I'll do it with all my heart," he re- 
 joined quickly. 
 
 I was not so sure of that, but it suited 
 me best to say nothing. In truth, I don't 
 think just about this time that I hated him 
 as virulently as I had done before. It was 
 an effort to me at times to remember 
 that he was in very truth my enemy, that 
 he had stolen my sweetheart from me, 
 that I had sworn sooner or later to have 
 
 I8 7
 
 Grip 
 
 his blood unless he should happen to have 
 mine. 
 
 However, be that as it might, the instinct 
 of preserving this man alive was very strong 
 in me and was ever present in my mind, 
 and I continued to save him and to shield 
 him to the greatest extent that was in my 
 power. I have often thought since those 
 times, that without the twenty Napoleons 
 which Margaret and Mrs. Hyde had sent 
 us, De Lancy would never, never could, 
 have got through the year which followed 
 on the visit of the two ladies. I was the 
 purse-keeper, and I spun the money out as 
 far as I possibly could, making a rule of 
 never spending more than a franc a day, 
 and if our mess was fairly good, of not 
 even spending as much as that. 
 
 And, after all, I need not have been so 
 careful, for just at the end of the year 
 that is my fifth and rather more than De 
 Lancy's third year of imprisonment we re- 
 ceived a notification late one evening to 
 the effect that De Lancy was ordered to 
 attend at the Commandant's bureau at ten 
 o'clock the following morning, and that he 
 1 88
 
 Parted 
 
 was not to go to work with the rest of our 
 gang in the earlier part of the day. That 
 meant that I also was to have a holiday, a 
 circumstance to which I was by no means 
 averse. The order, however, had been suf- 
 ficient to throw De Lancy into a fever of 
 curiosity and apprehension. 
 
 " Something has happened what can it 
 be ? " he said at least twenty times as we lay 
 on our bed of planks that night. 
 
 " Perhaps another lady seeking a rela- 
 tive," I answered. " If so let us hope that 
 she has come armed with a little fairing like 
 the last one." 
 
 " Hyde, you are a thorough Englishman," 
 he exclaimed, " as mercenary as you are 
 high." 
 
 " We have found those Napoleons very 
 useful," I suggested. 
 
 " We!" he repeated with scorn. "Yes, 
 a great deal those Napoleons have done for 
 you. Why, every one that we have spent has 
 gone down my gullet in some form or other." 
 
 "We won't split straws about it," I 
 said, for there was no gainsaying the truth 
 of his remark. 
 
 189
 
 Grip 
 
 " Still, I wonder I wonder Hyde, do 
 you think that my wife " 
 
 " Comrade, I cannot think I know 
 nothing. Why not go to sleep and wait till 
 morning to see what morning brings ? " 
 
 I made this and similar suggestions a 
 good many times, but I might as well have 
 talked to the boards on which we lay, to 
 the chain which bound us together or the 
 lamp swinging over our heads. Sleep 
 seemed to be miles away from him and, be- 
 ing of a highly nervous and excitable tem- 
 perament, he made it keep miles away from 
 my eyes also. And even when morning 
 came and the rest of the formats went off 
 to their day's work, we had some weary 
 hours to get through before we were due 
 to present ourselves at the Commandant's 
 bureau. 
 
 However, the hour at last drew near and 
 we were escorted to the bureau by a garde- 
 chiourme, not our friend Pierre Lebrun but 
 another. Pierre being, as was usual with 
 him at that hour, out in the stoneyard with 
 our gang. 
 
 We had never been in the bureau since 
 190
 
 Parted 
 
 the visit of Mrs. Hyde and the young lady 
 called Ginevra, and I had almost to hold 
 De Lancy up as we went along. I do not 
 know what he expected his wife strange 
 visitors some plot to ruin him and 
 lengthen his term of imprisonment even 
 the guillotine itself. I saw at a glance as 
 we entered that no strangers were present. 
 I felt also that we were in for no unpleas- 
 antness ; somehow the experienced for(at 
 learns to know the atmosphere of his Bagne 
 and the countenances of the officials as an 
 old mariner learns to know the set of the 
 tides and the signs of the heavens. 
 
 The Commandant was sitting at his large 
 table and he looked up as we entered and 
 saluted him. He did not this time go 
 through the pretence of asking our names, 
 but addressed himself immediately to my 
 comrade. 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte," he said quietly, 
 " his Majesty has been pleased to send me 
 instructions for your immediate release, he 
 having bestowed upon you his full and free 
 pardon for the offences for which you were 
 sent here. Your irons will be struck off 
 191
 
 Grip 
 
 now, and when you have made your toilette, 
 you will be free to go when it pleases you." 
 
 If I had not been blessed with a quick 
 eye and a ready hand, De Lancy would 
 have fallen to the ground, for he reeled and 
 fell over against me. I caught him in a 
 firm grasp and steadied him until the first 
 great shock was over. The Commandant 
 sat watching him not unkindly. 
 
 " Give him some of that water," he said 
 to me, pointing to the bottle of water which, 
 with a glass, stood on the table at his elbow. 
 
 After a gulp or two of the water, De 
 Lancy pulled himself together again. 
 " Your pardon, sir," he said, with a salute 
 to the Commandant, "but may I ask to see 
 my pardon ? " 
 
 " Certainly it is here," and the Com- 
 mandant gave him a large official-looking 
 document from which depended several 
 seals. 
 
 De Lancy read it through and then 
 handed it back again." I am very sen- 
 sible of his Majesty's clemency," he said 
 simply. 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte, I congratulate you 
 
 192
 
 Parted 
 
 on your recovered freedom," said the Com- 
 mandant with a wave of his hand. " You 
 will now go and have your fetters removed. 
 As for you," looking at me and holding the 
 point of his middle finger against the centre 
 of his forehead as if that would help him 
 to fix my identity. " Your name is " 
 
 " Charles Hyde, mon Commandant" I 
 replied. 
 
 " Yes, ah, yes ; and you are a commended 
 format." 
 
 " Yes, mon Commandant!' 
 
 " Yes an affair of a man who struck an 
 officer ? " 
 
 "Yes, mon Commandant" 
 
 " Good ! Then how many years' service 
 have you ? " 
 
 "Five years." 
 
 " Your term ? " 
 
 " Fifteen years." 
 
 " Your crime ? " 
 
 " I killed a gens de police in a scrimmage, 
 mon Commandant ; he arrested me for an- 
 other." 
 
 "Ah, yes I remember. Well " turn- 
 ing to our warder " direct that this man,
 
 Grip 
 
 Charles Hyde, be put on the half chain, 
 and also that he be passed into the salles 
 d'tpreuve" 
 
 As I have said before, if I had learned 
 nothing else during my sojourn in the 
 Bagne, I had certainly acquired perfect 
 control over myself. If De Lancy had re- 
 ceived any sudden news such as being 
 given a change of life which would have 
 alleviated at least half of his woes, he 
 would have staggered and shown signs of 
 the most tempestuous emotion. On my part 
 I was able to bow profoundly and to ex- 
 press my thanks in plain and unemotional 
 language. 
 
 " You have fairly earned it," said the 
 Commandant. He dismissed us then and 
 we followed our escort back across the 
 great square in order that De Lancy might 
 have his chain taken off. 
 
 " Hyde," he said, " I have my wife to 
 thank for this. There has been a change 
 of dynasty, and Louis Philippe sits on the 
 throne now. Margaret has gone to him at 
 once and worked on him till she got me 
 out of this." 
 
 194
 
 Parted 
 
 " How do you know there has been a 
 change ? " 
 
 " The pardon is made out in the name 
 of his Majesty Louis Philippe," he an- 
 swered. " Hyde, you know what I shall 
 do when I get out ? " 
 
 " Seek your wife." 
 
 " My wife," he said, smiling, " will be at 
 yonder gate to receive me." 
 
 His faith in her was divine ! 
 
 " No, my first and last thought till we 
 meet again will be to work night and day 
 for your pardon. I will not leave a stone 
 unturned you shall never be out of my 
 thoughts. Not that anything I could ever 
 do even in fifty years could repay what you 
 have done for me here, or what you have 
 been to me. And now, my friend and 
 comrade, our time together is very short. 
 Where will you meet me when you are 
 free ? Will you come straight to the 
 Chateau St. Etienne ? " 
 
 " Not to your house. No, anywhere but 
 there," I said hurriedly. 
 
 " I quite understand ! I felt that way 
 too. Hyde, I have never told you all these 
 
 '95
 
 Grip 
 
 weary, weary years, because the very words 
 would have seared my tongue as with a hot 
 iron, but now that all is at an end, and I 
 am a free man again, it does not matter so 
 much. But on our way here, they brought 
 us through my own town St. Etienne. 
 Yes, 1, the Suzerain of the place, was 
 marched through one of a gang of formats 
 Mon Dieu, through the ranks of my 
 own people." 
 
 " And your people ? " 
 
 " They knelt to see me pass, praying anu 
 weeping for me ! Now, I go back among 
 them. But you it is possible that I may 
 not know the day of your release. I don't 
 want to see Toulon again. Will you then 
 write to me at the Chateau St. Etienne, 
 Ardeche, and meet me that day month at 
 the Hotel du Soleil d'Or at Aries ! " 
 
 " At the Hotel du Soleil d'Or, at Aries," 
 I repeated, " I will be there." 
 196
 
 Out of Sight 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 OUT OF SIGHT. 
 
 I PARTED from De Lancy on the as- 
 surance that I would meet him one 
 month from the day of my leaving the 
 Bagne at the Hotel du Soleil d'Or at 
 Aries. When he was fairly gone and I 
 realized that I was as half a man, for 
 the effect of the half-chain was most 
 extraordinary for a few days, that I had 
 parted from him who had been my friend 
 and enemy in one, I knew that I ought not 
 to have let him go out in complete igno- 
 rance of our real relations! And yet, it 
 had seemed impossible to tell him just at 
 that moment. 
 
 Besides, there was Margaret to think of, 
 
 for if Margaret knew that I was a prisoner 
 
 at the Bagne of Toulon, she would most 
 
 certainly write home at once and give in- 
 
 197
 
 Grip 
 
 formation of my whereabouts to my family 
 That, for many reasons, and chiefly that 
 my father might be spared the pain and 
 annoyance which such knowledge would 
 give him, I was most anxious to avoid, so 
 I consoled myself with the thought that, 
 after all, I had done what was for the best 
 under the circumstances. 
 
 And to say besides yet once more I must 
 confess that I had never liked De Lancy so 
 well or felt my hatred so faltering as I did 
 on the morning when I watched his fetters 
 being taken off and then saw him walk 
 away, his eyes swimming in tears and he 
 ever turning back to wave his adieux to 
 me. If I had spoken then, I think that 
 the words would have choked me. 
 
 How much I missed De Lancy I am sure 
 no words could express. I had missed the 
 boy, Jean Leroy, but his death was in a 
 great measure a comfort and a relief to me. 
 After De Lancy's departure, I know now 
 that if I had been given another chain-com- 
 panion I should most likely have foregone 
 all idea of revenge, have run amuck and 
 probably ended my days under the guillo- 
 198
 
 Out of Sight 
 
 tine. As it was, the relief of being only on 
 the half-chain, which scarcely incommoded 
 my movements at all, and also of being 
 passed into the sallcs d'epreuve, where I 
 had not only more liberty, but also a choice 
 of work, was exceedingly great and it had 
 come at a time when I most needed dis- 
 traction. 
 
 Still I was in prison. I was safe and 
 sound in the Bagne of Toulon, and I had 
 ten years yet to serve ere I should be free. 
 And let me tell you, ten years can some- 
 times seem a much longer time than fifteen. 
 On the day of my sentence, fifteen years 
 had seemed like a lifetime ; when De 
 Lancy was set at liberty, and I thought 
 over the years which would probably have 
 to go by ere I should see him again, ten 
 years was like an eternity. 
 
 But this phase of mind did not last very 
 long with me. After a few hours of de- 
 pression I pulled myself together, remem- 
 bering that I had not been called " the Bull- 
 dog " for nothing, that I had determinedly 
 set myself to get through this particular 
 purgatory and to attain a certain object.
 
 Grip 
 
 Now that I had won through the most bit- 
 ter and difficult part of all, I would not 
 turn back. I was no craven. 
 
 So I set myself to patiently await the 
 coming of a letter from De Lancy. the first 
 letter I should have received for more than 
 five years. But it did not come it never 
 came ! I had no word, no sign from him 
 whom I had saved and shielded for three 
 years, whom I had worked for, toiled for, 
 almost lived for, for whom I had denied my- 
 self food, rest and many a trifling advantage 
 which I have not thought it worth while to 
 detail in this story. 
 
 Still, I waited patiently until three and 
 then six months had gone by, but not a word 
 or a sign came to me from the outside world. 
 I did not dare to write to De Lancy for the 
 handwriting would have betrayed me to 
 Margaret, and I did not choose to ask one 
 of the scribes in the Bagne to write for me. 
 So I waited and waited, but nothing came 
 and six months went by, then nine months, 
 then a year slipped past and I began to 
 realize that De Lancy had forgotten me. 
 
 I think if he had remembered the past 
 200
 
 Out of Sight 
 
 sufficiently well to write to me as often as I 
 might receive a letter, that I should have 
 let the old hatred of the past six years sink 
 into oblivion. As it was, I made no fresh 
 friendships now that I was entirely on my 
 own responsibility, and the utter and in- 
 tense loneliness of my life was almost in- 
 supportable. 
 
 During all my leisure hours, and they 
 were somewhat more frequent now that 
 I had worked my way through the garde 
 fatigue, my thoughts ran chiefly upon De 
 Lancy's life with Margaret, my Margaret. 
 I pictured to myself the meeting between 
 the two, the eager questions which Mar- 
 garet had asked of his life in the Bagne, of 
 the privations he had suffered, the hard- 
 ships he had undergone, the humiliations 
 he had endured ; I pictured how she had 
 asked him of his friendships, and especially 
 of the Charles Hyde who had been his 
 chain-comrade, and I could almost hear De 
 Lancy saying in his fascinatingly well-bred 
 way that he must contrive to do something 
 to serve him. 
 
 And it had stopped there ! It had gone no 
 201
 
 Grip 
 
 further ! Ease, and wealth, and luxury, and 
 the companionship of the wife he idolized 
 had completely blotted out the friendship 
 of his days of wretchedness. I realized the 
 truth at last, and the bitterness of the 
 draught was far more bitter than any cup 
 which had ever before been held to my lips ! 
 And mingled with my bitterness was a feel- 
 ing of intense and, alas, unavailable regret 
 that I had had this man in my power and I 
 had let him go ! Why, why, had I been 
 such a fool ? Why, for the sake of a nicety 
 of honor which he would have been quite 
 incapable of appreciating, had he known 
 it, had I preserved and sheltered this man 
 so as to let him go scot-free back to the joy 
 of the happiness which he had stolen from 
 me ? Fool that I was, regrets were useless 
 now that the bird had flown from the cage. 
 I have said that when De Lancy had 
 passed out of the Bagne, my old enmity 
 was almost dead. Ah, yes, but " almost " is 
 a word of uncertain quality. As folk say, 
 " While there is life there is hope ; " so 
 while there is a faint vestige of an old 
 hatred left, there is always a chance of its 
 202
 
 Out of Sight 
 I 
 
 springing into new life and flourishing more 
 vigorously than ever. So with mine. In 
 the loneliness and desolation of my almost 
 hopeless life, with hot-headed ruin behind 
 me and an eternity of dreariness, as it 
 seemed, in front of me, my hatred which 
 had almost faded away of inanition afore- 
 time, took on new life as it were and throve 
 and throve apace until it possessed me far 
 more fiercely and uncontrollably than ever 
 it had done before. 
 
 How I hated him ! How bitter, how 
 many were my unavailing regrets that I had 
 not let him come to grief as I might often 
 have done. I had saved his life over and 
 over again. Twice I had pulled him with 
 a mighty jerk from under a great block of 
 stone, which, had I not saved him so, 
 would have crushed him to a shapeless 
 mass. At least a dozen times I had talked 
 him into quiet endurance and had so saved 
 him the bastonnade, and even the guil- 
 lotine itself. And once I had, by a great 
 effort, prevented a falling log from lighting 
 upon him by receiving the main part of the 
 weight upon my own shoulder. That had 
 203
 
 Grip 
 
 cost me a week of sleepless nights and days 
 of absolute torture. And it all counted for 
 nothing with him now ! Bah ! the ingrate ! 
 But I had not been nicknamed " the Bull- 
 dog " for nothing, and after the first smart 
 of the new pain had passed off, I enter- 
 tained no notion of letting my anger and my 
 disgust get the better of me and unfit me to 
 work my way through. No, no, I held my- 
 self more carefully in check than ever. I 
 lived entirely so as to fit myself against the 
 time when I should be free. I never spent 
 one penny of the money of which I was 
 possessed, some of it being part of the little 
 hoard which I had disbursed so carefully 
 on my comrade's behalf, and some of my own 
 small earnings in my leisure hours, when 
 we were allowed to work for our own bene- 
 fit. I had always been what we used to 
 call at home in Yorkshire a " dab " at whit- 
 tling things with a knife and my old ac- 
 complishment stood me in good stead 
 then, for it enabled me to make quite a 
 little store of toys for disposal in the bazaar 
 of the Bagne, and every farthing that I 
 made I carefully hoarded, in order that I 
 204
 
 Out of Sight 
 
 might have enough money to carry me 
 straight to Paris, there to fit myself out as 
 a gentleman once more, to remove as far 
 as was possible any traces of the format 
 which might have stamped themselves more 
 or less indelibly upon me, and most impor- 
 tant of all, to put myself once more under 
 M. Brisso and to take a daily lesson in his 
 fencing-school. 
 
 In this way two more years went by. It 
 was then eight years since I had been sent 
 to the Bagne, and just three years since De 
 Lancy and I had parted. I had got over 
 the half-way house and every day that went 
 by would bring me nearer and nearer to 
 freedom and a new life. 
 
 But I was not, thanks to the Almighty, 
 destined to work out the rest of my term. 
 I was sent for one morning to the Com- 
 mandant's bureau and went thither in charge 
 of a garde-chiourme. The Commandant 
 was not there when we arrived and we 
 waited some twenty minutes or so until he 
 came. I heard my escort discussing him 
 in an undertone with the two men on duty 
 at the door of the bureau ! 
 205
 
 Grip 
 
 " H'm it's always the same now wait 
 wait wait. It is a different thing to the 
 old Commandant who was the soul of 
 punctuality. This fellow will order you to 
 be at a certain place at a certain hour, come 
 half an hour late and blame you for wast- 
 ing the time of the formats, del, there is 
 no being even with him." 
 
 " Yes, it was a bad day for the Bagne 
 when the old Commandant was pensioned 
 off. They say he was considered too easy 
 with his formats, poor devils." 
 
 " I've heard that too ! Ah, well, well, 
 it's no use sighing for the days that can 
 never come back again. Ah, here he is," 
 and he drew himself up to the salute, as 
 the Commandant turned in at the door. 
 
 It was the first time that I had been 
 brought into personal contact with the new 
 Commandant, although the old one had 
 been gone for more than two years, aye, 
 more nearly three, if my memory serves me. 
 He was tall and black and scowling, with a 
 great deal of swagger about him, such as 
 is often put down to the military man and 
 which you seldom or never see in the sol- 
 206
 
 Out of Sight 
 
 dier ! He looked at me sharply and asked 
 the garde-chiourme why I was there ? 
 
 " This man Sharl 'Yde, man Command- 
 ant; you sent for him," was the man's 
 reply. 
 
 " Ah, yes, yes ; bring him in." 
 
 We followed him into the bureau and he 
 sat down in the same big arm-chair as the 
 other Commandant had done on my last 
 visit there. 
 
 After a moment's silence he looked up 
 at me and said sharply " Your name ? " 
 
 " Charles Hyde, man Commandant. " 
 
 " English ? " 
 
 "Yes, mon Commandant" 
 
 " Your term here." 
 
 " Fifteen years, mon Commandant" 
 
 " You have served ? " 
 
 " Eight." 
 
 " This man's record ? " said he, turn- 
 ing to the clerk who sat at the end of the 
 table. 
 
 The clerk consulted a big book in silence 
 for a minute or two ; the Commandant 
 meanwhile tapped restlessly on the table 
 with his ringer-tips. 
 
 207
 
 Grip 
 
 " Charles 'Yde English age thirty-four 
 term fifteen years, unblemished record 
 highly commended during second year of 
 term for preventing his fellow-prisoner, a 
 noted bad character from escaping. That 
 is all, monsieur." 
 
 " H'm ! Well I have news for you. 
 His Majesty has been pleased to pardon 
 you." 
 
 " Sir ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " You are free as soon as your chain can 
 be taken off. Take care that you don't 
 find yourself sent here again." 
 
 He dismissed me with a wave of his 
 hand and the garde-chiourme twitched at 
 my arm that I should go out. I bowed for 
 the last time to the Commandant, but he 
 did not look at me so I stumbled out into 
 the blinding sunshine. 
 
 " You are not very keen on getting away, 
 hey ? " was the remark of my escort. " Man 
 Dieu, if I were a fine fellow like you, I 
 would make all the haste I could lest the 
 Commandant finds out that he has mistaken 
 you for another." 
 
 208
 
 A Tryst 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A TRYST. 
 
 I WAS not very long in getting out of 
 the Bagne when once my anklet 
 was off and I was free of the chain 
 which I had worn for eight years. I made 
 no adieux, but as soon as I was outside the 
 gates I went in search of a respectable inn 
 and there I asked for a room and a tub of 
 hot water. How I enjoyed my bath none 
 but myself will ever know. It was a big 
 tub, given to me in a great wash-house and 
 probably only used for the washing of linen. 
 They filled it almost to the brim, and I got 
 into it, and with a good scrubbing-brush 
 and a huge lump of soap, I washed years of 
 dirt away. 
 
 I had bought linen already, enough 
 
 change for a week, and when I had fully 
 
 exhausted the luxury of the great tub, I 
 
 groomed myself well down and arrayed 
 
 14 209
 
 Grip 
 
 myself in my fresh and dainty shirt, which 
 gave me a sense of great pleasure. My 
 clothes were stamped with a look of the 
 Bagne, so I went off to the shop of a 
 second-hand dealer, where, after a good 
 deal of trouble, I succeeded in finding a 
 suit of fine brown clothes that fitted me as 
 if they had been made for me. 
 
 Then I went back to the inn and dined, 
 dined sumptuously off a great beef-steak 
 and several vegetables, followed by an 
 omelette, which somehow reminded me of 
 a Yorkshire pudding at its best. And, after 
 a stroll round the town, I went to bed ! 
 
 All the day I had been looking forward 
 to my first night in bed, but, as a matter of 
 fact, I could not sleep a wink. I felt 
 choked and smothered, and, at last, I put a 
 blanket on the floor and laid on that, with 
 the hard bolster under my head. I have 
 never got used to a soft pillow since ! 
 
 Even then I did not sleep half as well as 
 I had done on my bed of planks over in the 
 Bagne, and I determined, as my bed was a 
 matter of so little moment to me, I would 
 push on to Paris as fast as I possibly could.
 
 A Tryst 
 
 The diligence started at four o'clock in 
 the morning and I was so lucky as to 
 secure a seat beside the driver. I contrived 
 before we started to write the promised 
 letter to De Lancy. Of course there would 
 have been no difficulty in doing that had 
 not I always the fear before me of betraying 
 myself to Margaret before the time came. 
 However, by dint of holding my pen as 
 I had never held it before, I contrived so to 
 disguise my handwriting that I should not 
 have known it myself ; and this was what I 
 wrote : " I left the Bagne this morning. I 
 will be, as agreed, at the Hotel du Soleil 
 d'Or, Aries, this day month the 25th of 
 September. Charles Hyde ! " 
 
 I threw the pen down and, as I dusted 
 the contents of the sand-pot over the words 
 that I had written, I told myself that it was 
 probably for the last time that I should 
 sign myself by the name which had been as 
 a merciful cloak to my own identity. I 
 hoped so with all my heart. 
 
 I breathed freely as the diligence started 
 off and Toulon was soon left far behind us. 
 I only looked back once, as a man might 
 
 211
 
 Grip 
 
 look back who had escaped the tortures of 
 hell. And from that moment I set myself 
 to enjoy every moment of my time. Nothing 
 escaped my notice ; every tree, hedge, bird, 
 beast, and cloud that came within my ken 
 had each and all a story to tell, a story of 
 which we should regard as the greatest 
 boon of all, though we do not always prize 
 it as we should do, a story of liberty. As 
 we went we passed several weary-looking 
 wretches tramping along towards Paris. 
 They were tired and footsore, but I did not 
 pity them. They were free ! Probably they 
 had but just come out of the Bagne, and, if 
 that were so, they were too happy in their 
 freedom to mind the minor miseries of 
 being on the tramp under God's sweet- 
 smelling sky ; in having the light of moon 
 and stars instead of the ghastly lamp 
 swinging overhead to which they had been 
 used ; in having all the sweet sounds and 
 scents of the blessed open country in place 
 of the foul air with which the Bagne reeked. 
 No, no, I flung each of such a franc or 
 two to help him on his way, but of pity 
 I had none. I was too full myself of 
 212
 
 A Tryst 
 
 the unspeakable joy and blessing of free- 
 dom. 
 
 At last we got to Paris. By that time I 
 had become almost used to sleeping in a 
 bed and I sought out a modest hotel where 
 I could bestow myself with comfort and 
 economy, for I had yet to make sure that, 
 after a lapse of eight years, my draft on the 
 bank wherein I had lodged my little fortune, 
 would be honored. 
 
 However, as soon as I showed myself in 
 the bank I saw that I was recognized by 
 those who had known me before. I saw 
 the head of the firm and in confidence I 
 briefly explained my reasons for not having 
 communicated with him before. I found 
 of course, that my money had grown a little 
 by reason of having lain idle so long, and I 
 drew a cheque for fifty pounds and went off 
 in search of a tailor forthwith. 
 
 From him I ordered several suits of 
 clothes and I also purchased other neces- 
 saries such as were in fashion. I let my 
 red locks grow to a more ordinary length 
 than had been the mode in the Bagne and I 
 was at no little pains to try to remove as far 
 213
 
 Grip 
 
 as possible the traces of my long spell of a 
 rough life ; indeed after a couple of days 
 my dressing-table was as littered with 
 various washes and scents and soaps as if 
 I had been a pretty young lady just intro- 
 duced into the gay world instead of being, 
 as I was, a great hulking fellow lately 
 released from the Bagne of Toulon. 
 
 During the whole of my eight years of 
 prison-life, I had never once seen myself, so 
 that I do not actually know what I looked 
 like then. But I do know that after I had 
 been a week in Paris and had got myself 
 into a suit of clothes for which I had been 
 measured and fitted, when I had been 
 washed and scrubbed and groomed until I 
 was as clean and smart as a new pin, I 
 presented as personable an appearance as 
 any man could wish for. I was no beauty 
 I had never, as old William, the head- 
 keeper, had bluntly put it, had any beauty 
 to answer for but I was something to look 
 at, all the same. There was only one point 
 which really troubled me it was that my 
 hands were so rough and coarse, though 
 nothing to what they had been in the early 
 214
 
 A Tryst 
 
 days of my time at Toulon. However, that 
 was but a small matter. I bought gloves of 
 a size or two larger than I had been used 
 to wear and troubled myself no more ex- 
 cepting that I bestowed a good -deal of 
 toilet care upon them. 
 
 And every moment that I could spare I 
 spent in M. Brisso's fencing-school, for I 
 had naturally got not a little rusty in the art 
 and needed all that I could learn in the 
 little time that was at my disposal, so as to 
 fit myself for the encounter which lay before 
 me. 
 
 Still I worked with a will ; my whole heart 
 and soul was set on the one object, and it 
 was wonderful how quickly I picked up all 
 that I had known before and a good deal 
 that I had never known. And so, by the 
 time I was obliged to set out from Paris so 
 as to keep my appointment with De Lancy 
 at Aries, I was, so M. Brisso declared, the 
 prettiest fencer he had had in his school for 
 years. 
 
 It is a far cry from Paris to Aries, but I 
 enjoyed my journey there very thoroughly. 
 The weather was settled and very fine, the 
 
 215
 
 Grip 
 
 coach ran well, the horses were good and 
 the driver knew his business. And at last 
 I was within measurable distance of the 
 hour for which I had lived for nearly nine 
 years, for which I had waded through the 
 waters of desolation, for which I had eaten 
 of the bread of bitterness and endured a 
 life which was little if any better than hell 
 itself. Of course, there was just a chance 
 that De Lancy would not keep the tryst. 
 He had faithfully promised to do so, but 
 how was I to be sure that he would not 
 prove like the Baal of the priests to have 
 gone on a journey, or to be asleep ? Of 
 course I knew that he would have no ink- 
 ling of the real nature of my errand, but I 
 did think it more than possible that he 
 might not feel inclined to put himself to 
 trouble and inconvenience in order to keep 
 the tryst, that all the fine promises of his 
 days of obligation might prove to be as so 
 much piecrust, made to be broken, that he 
 might be so wrapped up in his happiness 
 with Margaret, that he would not care 
 to take a journey only to meet the friend of 
 his time of desolation. 
 216
 
 A Tryst 
 
 However, only time would show whether 
 he would be there or not. I was on my 
 way thither and every beat of the good 
 horses' feet took me nearer and nearer to 
 the place where we were to meet ; every 
 slant of the sun's rays saw me nearer and 
 nearer to the desire which had possessed 
 me for nine years. I had almost forgotten 
 that I had ever been a format, the years I 
 had spent in the Ba%ne had already slipped 
 far away into the consoling distance of the 
 past, and I seemed to have crammed years 
 of pleasure and life into the month which 
 had just gone by. 
 
 At last we drew near to Aries, and drove 
 in through the quaint and quiet streets. I 
 took note of the beautiful women standing 
 in their doorways and wondered whether 
 they had found their inheritance of loneli- 
 ness a blessing or a curse? I wondered 
 whether any of them had played fast and 
 loose with men's best and holiest feelings, 
 whether they had used men's hearts as a 
 toy and a plaything, as a ball to be tossed 
 hither and thither, and likely enough to be 
 in the end tossed clean out of sight, to be 
 217
 
 Grip 
 
 in some waste place uncared for, unthought 
 of, neglected and forlorn ? Then we turned 
 into the great court-yard of the Hotel du 
 Soleil d'Or and my thoughts were directed 
 into an altogether different channel. 
 
 I eagerly scanned the faces of the little 
 crowd of people who had assembled to 
 watch the arrival of the coach, but that of 
 De Lancy was not among them ! Still, I 
 was beforehand with my tryst, and two days 
 must elapse ere the full time would be up. 
 I walked into the hotel and asked whether 
 they had any news of the Comte de Lancy's 
 arrival ? 
 
 The handsome landlady told me that 
 Monsieur le Comte had commanded rooms, 
 she believed, for the following day ; but 
 he had certainly not yet arrived. 
 
 I thanked her and went my way. So he 
 meant to come after all ! Well, I was glad 
 of that. I was only one step now from my 
 revenge ! 
 
 I did not remain at the Soleil d ? Or my- 
 self. Not for worlds would I have re- 
 mained under the same roof as De Lancy. 
 I therefore went to the other of the two 
 218
 
 A Tryst 
 
 principal inns of the little place and there 
 obtained a good enough lodging for all my 
 purposes. 
 
 I found the time hang exceedingly heavy 
 upon my hands. I knew not a soul, I had 
 not learned to read French, so that even 
 the week-old newspaper of the district was 
 a closed book to me, there was nothing to 
 see in the place excepting the beautiful 
 women, and they were not for me or my 
 heart for them. It seemed to me as if the 
 night would never come. And when night 
 did come at last I found myself choking 
 among such a heap of down that I had to 
 have recourse to my old expedient of turn- 
 ing out and lying on the floor. There the 
 mosquitoes found me out and at last I got 
 up, and in the first blush of the early dawn 
 I sallied out and walked off to the Rhone, 
 into whose waters I plunged very grate- 
 fully. 
 
 On my return I broke my fast with a roll 
 and coffee, and put on the time somehow 
 till the hour came round for the coach to 
 arrive. 
 
 But De Lancy did not come by it ; evi- 
 219
 
 Grip 
 
 dently he was not as eager for our tryst as 
 I was ; he did not mean to arrive until the 
 next day. 
 
 I was still standing watching the horses 
 being taken out, when the handsome land- 
 lady of the hotel came out into the court- 
 yard and addressed herself to me. 
 
 " Monsieur was inquiring yesterday for 
 Monsieur le Comte de Lancy," she began, 
 in a voice which was that of a person plainly 
 impressed by the station of my supposed 
 friend. 
 
 I admitted that such was the truth, and 
 she continued, " Monsieur le Comte has 
 arrived in his own carriage, with post-horses. 
 If Monsieur will give himself the pain to 
 enter, I will inform Monsieur le Comte that 
 Monsieur inquires for him." 
 
 I followed her into a room on the right 
 of the door feeling that the supreme mo- 
 ment had come. There was a window look- 
 ing into the court-yard, where the coach 
 was still standing, and another at the op- 
 posite side of the room looking into a gar- 
 den. I strode across to it, my heart beat- 
 ing hard and fast, my senses almost reeling 
 220
 
 A Tryst 
 
 and and as I stood there half hidden by 
 the white curtains, I saw Margaret Eden, 
 my Margaret, wearing a white gown un- 
 changed excepting that she had ripened 
 and grown in beauty come across the 
 grass-plot straight towards me !
 
 Grip 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE GIRL IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 A S I stood at the window half hidden 
 JTIL by the snowy curtains, such a 
 wave of tempestuous feeling overcame 
 me that I was within an ace of breaking 
 down into tears like a weak woman. 
 As I watched Margaret coming slowly 
 across the grass, I knew in an instant 
 that I had been utterly and entirely 
 wrong in thinking that my love for my early 
 sweetheart had died out and almost given 
 place to a feeling of hatred. Hatred for 
 her my God! Hatred! Why, at the 
 very first sight of her, I knew that I loved 
 every hair of her head, that I worshipped 
 the very ground on which she walked, and, 
 most positive proof of all, an overwhelming 
 conviction came to me that for her sake, 
 
 222
 
 The Girl in The Garden 
 
 De Lancy was safe, if she loved him, I 
 would go out into darkness forever rather 
 than touch a hair of his head. 
 
 I watched her pass on out of sight and 
 then I heard a hurrying footstep on the 
 polished floor outside, and then Margaret's 
 own voice saying " Where is he ? In 
 here ? " and the next moment a lady came 
 running in. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Hyde what words can I ever 
 find why why George I" she ended with 
 a gasp. 
 
 I saw De Lancy behind her, his face 
 shining and radiant with happiness, but the 
 Margaret who had taken hold of both 
 my hands was a new Margaret, a stout, 
 buxom, rotund Margaret whom I had never 
 seen before, a Margaret whom I did not 
 know, in whom I could see but few traces 
 of the sweetheart of long ago, and who then 
 was the girl in the garden, the girl whom I 
 had taken for Margaret ? 
 
 " Margaret ! " I exclaimed, and my tone 
 must have sounded incredulous, for she 
 laughed aloud. 
 
 " Why do you say ' Margaret' in that 
 223
 
 Grip 
 
 tone ? " she demanded. " Have I grown so 
 utterly out of recognition ? " 
 
 She had, but I could not well say so, and 
 moreover, at that moment De Lancy, who 
 had been staring in a perplexed way first at 
 one and then at the other of us, contrived 
 to put a word in edgeways, as the saying 
 goes. 
 
 " What do you mean by ' recognition,' 
 Margaret ? " he exclaimed. " And why did 
 you call him ' George ? ' His name is 
 Charles." 
 
 "Nay," said she very gently, taking her 
 husband's hand while she still kept tight 
 hold of one of mine " you do not under- 
 stand, dearest. Your friend Charles Hyde, 
 if this be he, is my old friend and sweet- 
 heart, George Somers of Somersley, whom 
 we have all thought dead this many a year." 
 
 " George Somers a Somers of Somers- 
 ley ! " he ejaculated in a tone of the most 
 profound astonishment, " and you knew me 
 all along ? " 
 
 " I am afraid that I did," I admitted. 
 
 He had got hold of my other hand by this 
 time and was shaking it as if he could think 
 224
 
 The Girl in The Garden 
 
 of no other way of expressing himself 
 "My friend my best friend " he broke 
 out at last " I I can find no words now 
 that we meet at last. I have gone over 
 those years of ours together a hundred 
 no no a thousand times. Your si- 
 lence " 
 
 " My silence ! " I exclaimed. " But you 
 never wrote." 
 
 " What, you never had a letter from 
 me?" 
 
 " Never one ! " 
 
 " Then they kept back my letters, for I 
 wrote and wrote and wrote. As I told 
 you when we parted, I worked day and 
 night for you. You have never been a day 
 or an hour out of my thoughts. I never 
 rested till I obtained your pardon and this 
 last month has been insupportable." 
 
 " What ! It was you who got my par- 
 don ? " I cried. 
 
 " Do you think that pardons drop from 
 the skies, my friend ? " he said simply. 
 
 I think that even without that glimpse of 
 the girl in the garden, my old hatred could 
 never have held out against the overflow- 
 '5 225
 
 Grip 
 
 ing eagerness of the pair who had come to 
 meet me. Every black drop seemed to be 
 oozing away out of my heart and I saw 
 Margaret De Lancy for the first time in her 
 true character ; up to that moment she had 
 never been other than Margaret Eden to 
 me. 
 
 " Do you think that pardons drop from 
 the skies, my friend ? " he said simply 
 .... at which I released my hand from 
 Margaret's close clasp and took his in both 
 of mine. So we met again, my enemy and 
 I, the man whose blood I had sworn to 
 have, the man whom I had sheltered and 
 shielded, and hated and, as I now knew, 
 loved even while I thought that I hated 
 him. 
 
 Then for the first time, I realized that it 
 really was the same Margaret as in the old 
 days, for she put out her two hands to me and 
 said just in the old tone, " Dear old George, 
 I have so often wondered why Desmond's 
 comrade should have been so good to him, 
 have worked and slaved for him, have 
 spared him and sheltered him, and saved 
 his life over and over again ? I might have 
 226
 
 The Girl in The Garden 
 
 known I ought to have known who Charles 
 Hyde was all the time. And to think that 
 you were doing all this for me and I I " 
 
 " Pray don't say another word about it," 
 I said, looking down at her, and, if the truth 
 be told, wondering whether it was happiness 
 or sorrow which had changed her so com- 
 pletely from the sweetheart of my boyish 
 days ? It seemed then as if it was centu- 
 ries ago since I had had any love for Mar- 
 garet Eden so much may we change in a 
 few minutes of actuality. 
 
 " Dear old George," she said, in just the 
 old half coy tone of shy affection. 
 
 I think if I had not been so huge and she 
 so far below me in height, that she would 
 have kissed me in her overflowing gratitude 
 and excitement. And I am sure that De 
 Lancy would not have minded, even had he 
 known everything in the past, even if he 
 could have looked into my heart and seen 
 the barren years that had been laid waste 
 by my love for this woman. But I never 
 once thought of bending my cheek to re- 
 ceive the caress which would have been the 
 highest honor she would have known how 
 227
 
 Grip 
 
 to bestow upon me. ... I had given my 
 heart away and I have ever been honest 
 and heart-whole, if nothing else in my deal- 
 ings with women. 
 
 " Tell me " I said, when at last we 
 were all sitting close together " who I 
 thought I saw you in the garden just now, 
 Margaret ! A young lady in a white gown, 
 with curls over her shoulders." 
 
 " Ah why, don't you know ? Do you 
 think her so like me, George ? " she cried. 
 
 " I thought it was you." 
 
 "It was Constance. You remember 
 Constance ? She is spending a few months 
 with us." 
 
 " Constance Little yellow-haired Con- 
 stance ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Ah, yes : she is so excited about you. 
 She would come with us, and she does not 
 know that you have actually arrived. Des- 
 mond, do go and fetch her, dearest. How 
 cruel of us to forget her." 
 
 De Lancy got up at once and went to 
 
 fetch his sister-in-law ; and then Margaret 
 
 turned round to me and said " Dear old 
 
 George I have not said a thousandth 
 
 228
 
 The Girl in The Garden 
 
 part of what I meant to say and want to 
 say. . . . but God bless you, dear, for all 
 the past. I've made you a bad return." 
 
 " No no not a word of that, please," 
 I said entreatingly. 
 
 " Dear old George," she said, dashing 
 away her tears with one hand while she 
 held the other one towards me. 
 
 I took it and kissed it. I never felt so 
 near to being a hypocrite in my life. 
 
 De Lancy came back then, bringing his 
 sister-in-law with him. " Have you told 
 her ? " I heard Margaret say, and he 
 quickly replied, " Not a word ! " 
 
 " Constance," said Madame De Lancy, 
 " this is Desmond's friend and comrade, 
 Charles Hyde." 
 
 I bowed profoundly, and she looked at 
 me with a puzzled air as she held out her 
 hand. " I am sure," she said with a very 
 gracious and winning air, " that we can 
 never all of us say or do enough to thank 
 you for all you have been to Desmond and 
 done for him ; but we will try, Mr. Hyde, 
 indeed we will." 
 
 " You have thanked me sufficiently 
 229
 
 Grip 
 
 already," I said, trying not to show the 
 overpowering emotion which almost pos- 
 sessed me. 
 
 She started at the sound of my voice and 
 looked aside at her sister. " Margaret," 
 she said, " surely, that is a Somers voice. 
 Is it it is yes, it's George Somers, 
 George Somers himself all the time ! But 
 why were you called Charles Hyde ? And 
 why did you not give Desmond a hint of 
 the truth ? We thought it so strange that a 
 mere friend should be so good, but there is 
 nothing wonderful in a Somers standing by 
 an Eden. And only think, Margaret, how 
 delighted dear old Aunt Eliza will be ! 
 She has almost broken her heart over you." 
 
 230
 
 Constance 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CONSTANCE. 
 
 I ALMOST forget how long we talked 
 that day and what was said. But I do 
 remember that Margaret turned to me with 
 the first cloud which, as yet, had darkened 
 her face and said, " Oh, George, I am 
 afraid I have bad news for you. Your dear 
 old father. . . ." 
 
 " Not gone ? " I asked quickly. 
 
 She put out her hand and the tears came 
 into her eyes ; I needed no other answer. 
 
 " Well," I said, after a moment's silence, 
 " I am glad that he never knew. If he 
 knows now, he understands everything." 
 
 " Everything," she said softly. 
 
 I meant more by the word than she did, 
 and I felt that if my dear old dad was 
 cognizant of all that had passed in my 
 heart that day, he must be happy indeed 
 to think that such a load of evil thoughts 
 231
 
 Grip 
 
 had slipped away from me into oblivion for- 
 ever. 
 
 "George, dear," she continued, "I'm 
 afraid that is not quite all." 
 
 My heart went out to our little Benjamin 
 at once. " Not Wynne," I exclaimed. 
 
 " No, not Wynne, but Robert." 
 
 " Bob ! Not dead? " I called out incred- 
 ulously. 
 
 She looked at me. " He was killed in 
 the hunting-field last year. And Wynne 
 has since then persistently refused to use 
 the title unless he had sure evidence of 
 your death." 
 
 " My death ! The title, . . . . do you 
 mean. . . . ? " 
 
 "That you are Sir George Somers of 
 Somersley," she said very gently. 
 
 I took the news quietly. There was 
 nothing to rejoice over and, in truth, I 
 would infinitely rather have continued to 
 be plain George Somers, the " Mr. Garge " 
 of my younger days, than have become the 
 head of the family by my brother's death. 
 
 "We must let Wynne know," said Mar- 
 garet presently. 
 
 232
 
 Constance 
 
 " I must go home at once. I must see 
 them all, all that are left," I declared. 
 
 " No no we will send for Wynne. 
 Dear boy, he will be so rejoiced and he 
 will love to come to St. Etienne for a few 
 weeks. Then you can go home together. 
 Remember you are promised to us for the 
 present and I can consent to nothing 
 else." 
 
 " If it were only Wynne," I made reply, 
 " I would gladly fall in with your wishes. 
 But I have my aunt to think of. She is an 
 old lady ; I could not expect her to make 
 such a journey at her time of day, particu- 
 larly when I am a great hulking fellow in 
 the best of health, who is perfectly well able 
 to go and seek her." 
 
 " But your visit to St. Etienne," cried 
 Margaret blankly. 
 
 " Dear Margaret, it will only be put off. 
 I will inflict myself on you later on. Let 
 me propose a plan. Do you know where 
 Wynne is just now ? " 
 
 " Wynne is at home. I had a letter from 
 my mother this morning," put in Constance 
 Eden. " Your Aunt Eliza too, she is at 
 
 2 33
 
 Grip 
 
 Somersley. She has been a good deal there 
 since Wynne was left alone." 
 
 " Then let us all go back to dear York- 
 shire," I said, "and you shall all be my 
 guests at Somersley. So long as you two 
 are together, I don't suppose it matters 
 whether you are in France or England. 
 You must see, Margaret, my dear, that I 
 must get home to see Aunt Eliza and Wynne 
 without delay. Don't let me go back 
 alone." 
 
 It was as I had said, it mattered little or 
 nothing to Margaret de Lancy where they 
 were so long as they were together, and so 
 long as we were all together, they both 
 seemed to be content. As for me, I can 
 hardly tell you what my feelings were at 
 this time. I looked back in astonishment 
 and wonder over the days when I had 
 honestly believed myself to be in love with 
 Margaret, and in still greater bewilderment 
 to the years when I had genuinely believed 
 myself to be Margaret de Lancy's bitterest 
 and most implacable enemy. It seemed 
 now as if all those evil thoughts had found 
 a home in my heart for no other purpose 
 
 234
 
 Constance 
 
 than to save me to woo an Eden bride for 
 I knew by that time that my old affair with 
 Margaret had been but a forecasting of my 
 unquenchable love and adoration for her 
 sister. I had mistaken the boy's for the 
 man's love, just as one might mistake paste 
 for a diamond. But what man or woman 
 ever mistakes a diamond for paste I should 
 like to know ? 
 
 Out of deference to my impatience to see 
 my home and my own people again, the De 
 Lancys made no objections to starting for 
 England at once. We set out indeed the 
 very next day, Constance Eden going with 
 us. And in due course of time we all ar- 
 rived at Somersley, the dear home, which I 
 had often thought never to see again. It 
 was both sweet and bitter, that home-going. 
 Sweet to be there among the true York- 
 shire hearts, in the sound of the mellow 
 Yorkshire voices, in sight of the blue wolds 
 and in daily touch with the great, strong, 
 healthy, well-living, manly people ; bitter to 
 hear myself daily addressed by the title 
 which ever reminded me of those who had 
 gone before me ; bitter to think that I should 
 
 235
 
 Grip 
 
 never see them again, that they had passed 
 away all unknowing of the truth. 
 
 My dear lad, Wynne, was so delighted 
 to see me, he would scarce leave me and 
 for days kept putting his hand on mine as 
 if to make sure that I was a real presence 
 and not a mere dream-thing, who might 
 vanish and leave him wide-awake to the 
 reality of chill disappointment. My dear 
 little Benjamin. 
 
 As for Aunt Eliza, she was the same 
 doughty, erect, bluff and worldly woman with 
 a heart of gold as she had ever been. Her 
 reception of me was thoroughly characteris- 
 tic of herself. 
 
 " My dear boy," she said, exactly as if I 
 had been away for a week or so, " it is de- 
 lightful to see you back again. I am a good 
 deal older than I was and you I daresay are 
 wiser. Come to my room and tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 I did go and I told her everything from 
 beginning to end, or if not quite to the end, 
 I confided everything down to the time of 
 my seeing Margaret de Lancy again. Then, 
 too, I told her all about Mrs. Hyde and her 
 236
 
 Constance 
 
 niece Ginevra, and Aunt Eliza poked a 
 little sly fun at me on the score of that 
 most innocent young lady, such as would, 
 I am sure, have been very greatly to her 
 astonishment. 
 
 About this time I wrote to Mrs. Hyde 
 and explained myself. I told her how she 
 might, by applying to Jules Ferrand, get 
 definite news of her son, and in reply, I re- 
 ceived a letter saying that she and her 
 niece were on the point of starting for Paris, 
 in order to follow up my clue to the further- 
 most end. A few weeks later she wrote to 
 me from the gay city, telling me that she 
 had proved beyond all shadow of doubt 
 both the time and place of her son's death. 
 She sent me her best thanks, and told me 
 that she perfectly understood my reasons 
 for not having spoken out at the time of 
 her visit to the Bagne. She spoke of the 
 relief of knowing the truth and begging me, 
 when I found myself at leisure, to go down 
 to Gloucestershire and pay her a visit. 
 
 " You will go ? " said Aunt Eliza, when I 
 showed her the letter. 
 
 " By and by, perhaps," I replied. 
 
 237
 
 Grip 
 
 She looked at me sharply. " Is this girl 
 pretty ? " 
 
 " What girl ? " 
 
 " This Ginevra ! I don't know her other 
 name." 
 
 " Miss Osmond. No, I don't think so. 
 Not particularly pretty anyway," I re- 
 plied. " I should not go to see her in any 
 case." 
 
 " Oh ! Ah, well, I thought you might be. 
 You've quite got over the other affair ? " 
 
 " My dear aunt," I said smiling. 
 
 My thoughts went flying helter-skelter to 
 Thorpe-Hutton where she was. The De 
 Lancys with their children were, of course, 
 my guests at Somersley ; but, after break- 
 ing her journey for a single night, Con- 
 stance Eden had gone home to Thorpe- 
 Hutton, so that I only saw her from time 
 to time. Yet every time that we met served 
 but to deepen my love, to forge the chain 
 which bound my heart yet a little more 
 closely to hers. 
 
 It happened one day that Margaret, who 
 was suffering from a severe nervous head- 
 ache, asked me if I would send over to her 
 
 238
 
 Constance 
 
 father's house for something which she re- 
 quired. " Desmond would go," she said, 
 " but he hates to leave me if I am ill." - 
 
 " I'll ride over," I said promptly. 
 
 " No no I cannot " 
 
 " I was going to Thorpe-Hutton to-day 
 in any case," I said, telling a lie without 
 the very smallest compunction. " So give 
 me a note to your mother and I will under- 
 take to deliver it safely." 
 
 But I did not, however, find Mrs. Eden 
 at home. The servant who answered my 
 summons at the door told me that he be- 
 lieved she would not be back till close on 
 dinner-time, but added that he was not 
 sure whether Miss Eden was in the grounds 
 or not. " But I know, Sir George," he 
 added, "that she did not go with the mis- 
 tress." 
 
 I said at once that I would go into the 
 grounds and see if I could not find her, 
 and that failing to do so, I would return to 
 the house. I turned back from the great 
 entrance and passed into the gardens, to 
 that part where I had an idea she might be 
 found. And my instinct proved to be 
 
 2 39
 
 Grip 
 
 right, for I came upon her in a shady arbor 
 where, sheltered from the mild October 
 breezes, she was busily engaged in stitch- 
 ing at a bit of delicate embroidery. 
 
 I went in and joined her, and having 
 given over Margaret's letter, I, from some 
 impulse, gave her also the letter which I had 
 received several days previously from Mrs. 
 Hyde. 
 
 " So," I said, "the poor lady is satisfied 
 at last. I wish I could have been the means 
 of helping her to a more satisfactory end, 
 but perhaps, as she says, the certainty is 
 better to bear than suspense." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; for her heart must have told 
 her the truth long ago," Constance said 
 pitifully. " She must have known that 
 there was no hope any longer." 
 
 " You think so ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes. I am sure of it." 
 
 She read the letter to the end and gave 
 it back to me. 
 
 " There is one thing that I have never 
 
 understood," she said, at last breaking the 
 
 silence which had fallen upon us " that is, 
 
 why did you never confide your secret to 
 
 240
 
 Constance 
 
 Desmond ? It would have been quite safe 
 with him." 
 
 She looked at me with lovely limpid eyes 
 which seemed to set my heart on fire. I 
 hesitated for a moment, got up and strode 
 to the door of the arbor, then back again 
 to her side. " Shall I tell you everything ? " 
 I asked, speaking in a hurry. 
 
 " I would like to know," she answered 
 simply. 
 
 Then I told her all ! I kept back noth- 
 ing, I laid bare my very soul from the day 
 on which I went blustering to the Colonel 
 of the Regent's with the request for leave 
 " because they were going to sell my sweet- 
 heart to a beast of a Frenchman," right 
 down to the time when I reached the Hotel 
 du Soleil d'Or at Aries. 
 
 She looked at me wonderingly. " And 
 what happened to change you so ? " she 
 asked. " What made you give up your 
 quest after so many years ? " 
 
 I hesitated. I did not dare to tell her 
 
 that it was because I had seen her from 
 
 the window ; because I had taken her for 
 
 Margaret and had fallen more violently in 
 
 6 241
 
 Grip 
 
 love with her than I had ever been in all 
 my life before ; that after once seeing her 
 though I believed her at the moment to be 
 Margaret I had given up all idea of re- 
 venge, I had abandoned my hideous quest ; 
 that love had softened where hate had 
 hardened. 
 
 True, I was Sir George Somers of Som- 
 ersley, I was in the very prime of life, I 
 was rich, unfettered, well-born, and only 
 a few, who would safely keep my secret, 
 knew where and how I had spent the past 
 eight years. 
 
 Still I dared not speak. There was a 
 cloud, there was a ban, there was a secret, 
 and it was one of shame ; my hands were 
 stained with blood, though not blood shed 
 maliciously. Knowing all this, I did not 
 dare to speak, for to speak would be to 
 aspire to her hand and who was I, a jail- 
 bird, that I should look at her ? 
 
 " You don't hate Desmond now," she 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, no ; on the contrary, he is my best 
 friend." 
 
 "But you did till you met at Aries," 
 242
 
 Constance 
 
 she persisted. " What was it that changed 
 you so ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you," I stammered. 
 
 " No ? " she said gently. " Well I am 
 glad you don't hate him now. He is a 
 dear fellow though though I confess that 
 I have never quite understood Margaret's 
 adoration of him." 
 
 She dropped her voice almost to a whis- 
 per and she dropped her head over her 
 embroidery, until her face was hidden from 
 view. Something in the tone of her voice 
 made me turn and look at her. 
 
 " Constance," I said, and my heart was 
 beating so painfully that I could scarcely 
 get my words out " what do you mean ? 
 Am I to understand that if you had been 
 Margaret you would have chosen other- 
 wise ? " 
 
 " I don't think that I should ever have 
 chosen Desmond," she said, speaking very 
 low and bending her head yet more and 
 more over her needle-work. 
 
 " And you mean ? Oh, Constance 
 
 think. I'm so big, so ugly. I have passed 
 the best years of my life in a French prison. 
 
 243
 
 Grip 
 
 I would not dare I would not presume I 
 could never hope " 
 
 She flashed a look upon me and I caught 
 the glint of tears in her eyes. Then she 
 rose up and moved towards the entrance 
 of the arbor. 
 
 " Must I make my meaning so very 
 clear ? " she said in a tremulous voice. 
 
 She made as though she was about to 
 turn away but I sprang after her and caught 
 her back. " Do you realize all that you are 
 saying ? " I exclaimed almost roughly. 
 " You know what kind of a life I have had, 
 but you don't know what disappointment 
 would be to me now. Don't play fast and 
 loose with me." 
 
 She drew herself up and all the shyness 
 died out of her manner. " You are taking 
 me for my sister," she said then uttered a 
 cry of self-reproach. " Oh, I ought not to 
 have said that ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Possibly not, and yet it was that little 
 slip of the tongue which gave her to me. 
 
 " You really mean it ? " I said incredu- 
 lously after a little while. 
 
 " I really mean it," she said, half saucily. 
 244
 
 Constance 
 
 " But what can you see in me ? " I cried, 
 scarce able to believe in my good fortune. 
 
 She looked at me, and in that moment 
 all my doubts and fears died and were at 
 rest forever. 
 
 " I see a man" she said. " I see 
 you /" 
 
 Within my wife's wedding-ring two words 
 are inscribed. They were graven there to 
 please her and they are " Charles Hyde." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 245
 
 PRINTED AT THE PRESS OF 
 FLEMING, SCHILLER AND CARNRICK, 
 NEW YORK, FOR STONE AND KIMBALL, 
 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
 OCTOBER: M DCCC XCVI
 
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