And as he let his imaginings run riot they aroused within him a bestial2 jealousy3 of Mohammed Beyd, and a great fear that the other might encompass4 his base designs upon the defenseless girl. By a strange process of reasoning, Werper, whose designs were identical with the Arab's, pictured himself as Jane Clayton's protector, and presently convinced himself that the attentions which might seem hideous5 to her if proffered6 by Mohammed Beyd, would be welcomed from Albert Werper.
Her husband was dead, and Werper fancied that he could replace in the girl's heart the position which had been vacated by the act of the grim reaper7. He could offer Jane Clayton marriage—a thing which Mohammed Beyd would not offer, and which the girl would spurn8 from him with as deep disgust as she would his unholy lust9.
It was not long before the Belgian had succeeded in convincing himself that the captive not only had every reason for having conceived sentiments of love for him; but that she had by various feminine methods acknowledged her new-born affection.
And then a sudden resolution possessed10 him. He threw the blankets from him and rose to his feet. Pulling on his boots and buckling11 his cartridge12 belt and revolver about his hips13 he stepped to the flap of his tent and looked out. There was no sentry14 before the entrance to the prisoner's tent! What could it mean? Fate was indeed playing into his hands.
Stepping outside he passed to the rear of the girl's tent. There was no sentry there, either! And now, boldly, he walked to the entrance and stepped within.
Dimly the moonlight illumined the interior. Across the tent a figure bent15 above the blankets of a bed. There was a whispered word, and another figure rose from the blankets to a sitting position. Slowly Albert Werper's eyes were becoming accustomed to the half darkness of the tent. He saw that the figure leaning over the bed was that of a man, and he guessed at the truth of the nocturnal visitor's identity.
A sullen16, jealous rage enveloped17 him. He took a step in the direction of the two. He heard a frightened cry break from the girl's lips as she recognized the features of the man above her, and he saw Mohammed Beyd seize her by the throat and bear her back upon the blankets.
Cheated passion cast a red blur18 before the eyes of the Belgian. No! The man should not have her. She was for him and him alone. He would not be robbed of his rights.
Quickly he ran across the tent and threw himself upon the back of Mohammed Beyd. The latter, though surprised by this sudden and unexpected attack, was not one to give up without a battle. The Belgian's fingers were feeling for his throat, but the Arab tore them away, and rising wheeled upon his adversary19. As they faced each other Werper struck the Arab a heavy blow in the face, sending him staggering backward. If he had followed up his advantage he would have had Mohammed Beyd at his mercy in another moment; but instead he tugged20 at his revolver to draw it from its holster, and Fate ordained21 that at that particular moment the weapon should stick in its leather scabbard.
Before he could disengage it, Mohammed Beyd had recovered himself and was dashing upon him. Again Werper struck the other in the face, and the Arab returned the blow. Striking at each other and ceaselessly attempting to clinch22, the two battled about the small interior of the tent, while the girl, wide-eyed in terror and astonishment23, watched the duel24 in frozen silence.
Again and again Werper struggled to draw his weapon. Mohammed Beyd, anticipating no such opposition25 to his base desires, had come to the tent unarmed, except for a long knife which he now drew as he stood panting during the first brief rest of the encounter.
"Dog of a Christian26," he whispered, "look upon this knife in the hands of Mohammed Beyd! Look well, unbeliever, for it is the last thing in life that you shall see or feel. With it Mohammed Beyd will cut out your black heart. If you have a God pray to him now—in a minute more you shall be dead," and with that he rushed viciously upon the Belgian, his knife raised high above his head.
Werper was still dragging futilely27 at his weapon. The Arab was almost upon him. In desperation the European waited until Mohammed Beyd was all but against him, then he threw himself to one side to the floor of the tent, leaving a leg extended in the path of the Arab.
The trick succeeded. Mohammed Beyd, carried on by the momentum28 of his charge, stumbled over the projecting obstacle and crashed to the ground. Instantly he was up again and wheeling to renew the battle; but Werper was on foot ahead of him, and now his revolver, loosened from its holster, flashed in his hand.
The Arab dove headfirst to grapple with him, there was a sharp report, a lurid29 gleam of flame in the darkness, and Mohammed Beyd rolled over and over upon the floor to come to a final rest beside the bed of the woman he had sought to dishonor.
Almost immediately following the report came the sound of excited voices in the camp without. Men were calling back and forth31 to one another asking the meaning of the shot. Werper could hear them running hither and thither32, investigating.
Jane Clayton had risen to her feet as the Arab died, and now she came forward with outstretched hands toward Werper.
"How can I ever thank you, my friend?" she asked. "And to think that only today I had almost believed the infamous33 story which this beast told me of your perfidy34 and of your past. Forgive me, M. Frecoult. I might have known that a white man and a gentleman could be naught35 else than the protector of a woman of his own race amid the dangers of this savage36 land."
Werper's hands dropped limply at his sides. He stood looking at the girl; but he could find no words to reply to her. Her innocent arraignment37 of his true purposes was unanswerable.
Outside, the Arabs were searching for the author of the disturbing shot. The two sentries38 who had been relieved and sent to their blankets by Mohammed Beyd were the first to suggest going to the tent of the prisoner. It occurred to them that possibly the woman had successfully defended herself against their leader.
Werper heard the men approaching. To be apprehended39 as the slayer41 of Mohammed Beyd would be equivalent to a sentence of immediate30 death. The fierce and brutal42 raiders would tear to pieces a Christian who had dared spill the blood of their leader. He must find some excuse to delay the finding of Mohammed Beyd's dead body.
Returning his revolver to its holster, he walked quickly to the entrance of the tent. Parting the flaps he stepped out and confronted the men, who were rapidly approaching. Somehow he found within him the necessary bravado43 to force a smile to his lips, as he held up his hand to bar their farther progress.
"The woman resisted," he said, "and Mohammed Beyd was forced to shoot her. She is not dead—only slightly wounded. You may go back to your blankets. Mohammed Beyd and I will look after the prisoner;" then he turned and re-entered the tent, and the raiders, satisfied by this explanation, gladly returned to their broken slumbers44.
As he again faced Jane Clayton, Werper found himself animated45 by quite different intentions than those which had lured46 him from his blankets but a few minutes before. The excitement of his encounter with Mohammed Beyd, as well as the dangers which he now faced at the hands of the raiders when morning must inevitably47 reveal the truth of what had occurred in the tent of the prisoner that night, had naturally cooled the hot passion which had dominated him when he entered the tent.
But another and stronger force was exerting itself in the girl's favor. However low a man may sink, honor and chivalry48, has he ever possessed them, are never entirely49 eradicated50 from his character, and though Albert Werper had long since ceased to evidence the slightest claim to either the one or the other, the spontaneous acknowledgment of them which the girl's speech had presumed had reawakened them both within him.
For the first time he realized the almost hopeless and frightful53 position of the fair captive, and the depths of ignominy to which he had sunk, that had made it possible for him, a well-born, European gentleman, to have entertained even for a moment the part that he had taken in the ruin of her home, happiness, and herself.
Too much of baseness already lay at the threshold of his conscience for him ever to hope entirely to redeem54 himself; but in the first, sudden burst of contrition55 the man conceived an honest intention to undo56, in so far as lay within his power, the evil that his criminal avarice57 had brought upon this sweet and unoffending woman.
As he stood apparently58 listening to the retreating footsteps—Jane Clayton approached him.
"What are we to do now?" she asked. "Morning will bring discovery of this," and she pointed59 to the still body of Mohammed Beyd. "They will kill you when they find him."
For a time Werper did not reply, then he turned suddenly toward the woman.
"I have a plan," he cried. "It will require nerve and courage on your part; but you have already shown that you possess both. Can you endure still more?"
"I can endure anything," she replied with a brave smile, "that may offer us even a slight chance for escape."
"You must simulate death," he explained, "while I carry you from the camp. I will explain to the sentries that Mohammed Beyd has ordered me to take your body into the jungle. This seemingly unnecessary act I shall explain upon the grounds that Mohammed Beyd had conceived a violent passion for you and that he so regretted the act by which he had become your slayer that he could not endure the silent reproach of your lifeless body."
The girl held up her hand to stop. A smile touched her lips.
"Are you quite mad?" she asked. "Do you imagine that the sentries will credit any such ridiculous tale?"
"You do not know them," he replied. "Beneath their rough exteriors60, despite their calloused61 and criminal natures, there exists in each a well-defined strain of romantic emotionalism—you will find it among such as these throughout the world. It is romance which lures62 men to lead wild lives of outlawry63 and crime. The ruse64 will succeed—never fear."
"I shall hide you in the jungle," continued the Belgian, "coming for you alone and with two horses in the morning."
"But how will you explain Mohammed Beyd's death?" she asked. "It will be discovered before ever you can escape the camp in the morning."
"I shall not explain it," replied Werper. "Mohammed Beyd shall explain it himself—we must leave that to him. Are you ready for the venture?"
"Yes."
"But wait, I must get you a weapon and ammunition66," and Werper walked quickly from the tent.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Quite ready," replied the girl.
"Then come and throw yourself limply across my left shoulder," and Werper knelt to receive her.
"There," he said, as he rose to his feet. "Now, let your arms, your legs and your head hang limply. Remember that you are dead."
A moment later the man walked out into the camp, the body of the woman across his shoulder.
A thorn boma had been thrown up about the camp, to discourage the bolder of the hungry carnivora. A couple of sentries paced to and fro in the light of a fire which they kept burning brightly. The nearer of these looked up in surprise as he saw Werper approaching.
"Who are you?" he cried. "What have you there?"
"This is the body of the woman," he explained. "Mohammed Beyd has asked me to take it into the jungle, for he cannot bear to look upon the face of her whom he loved, and whom necessity compelled him to slay40. He suffers greatly—he is inconsolable. It was with difficulty that I prevented him taking his own life."
Across the speaker's shoulder, limp and frightened, the girl waited for the Arab's reply. He would laugh at this preposterous69 story; of that she was sure. In an instant he would unmask the deception70 that M. Frecoult was attempting to practice upon him, and they would both be lost. She tried to plan how best she might aid her would-be rescuer in the fight which must most certainly follow within a moment or two.
Then she heard the voice of the Arab as he replied to M. Frecoult.
"Are you going alone, or do you wish me to awaken51 someone to accompany you?" he asked, and his tone denoted not the least surprise that Mohammed Beyd had suddenly discovered such remarkably71 sensitive characteristics.
"I shall go alone," replied Werper, and he passed on and out through the narrow opening in the boma, by which the sentry stood.
A moment later he had entered among the boles of the trees with his burden, and when safely hidden from the sentry's view lowered the girl to her feet, with a low, "sh-sh," when she would have spoken.
Then he led her a little farther into the forest, halted beneath a large tree with spreading branches, buckled72 a cartridge belt and revolver about her waist, and assisted her to clamber into the lower branches.
"Tomorrow," he whispered, "as soon as I can elude73 them, I will return for you. Be brave, Lady Greystoke—we may yet escape."
"Thank you," she replied in a low tone. "You have been very kind, and very brave."
Werper did not reply, and the darkness of the night hid the scarlet74 flush of shame which swept upward across his face. Quickly he turned and made his way back to camp. The sentry, from his post, saw him enter his own tent; but he did not see him crawl under the canvas at the rear and sneak75 cautiously to the tent which the prisoner had occupied, where now lay the dead body of Mohammed Beyd.
Raising the lower edge of the rear wall, Werper crept within and approached the corpse76. Without an instant's hesitation77 he seized the dead wrists and dragged the body upon its back to the point where he had just entered. On hands and knees he backed out as he had come in, drawing the corpse after him. Once outside the Belgian crept to the side of the tent and surveyed as much of the camp as lay within his vision—no one was watching.
Returning to the body, he lifted it to his shoulder, and risking all on a quick sally, ran swiftly across the narrow opening which separated the prisoner's tent from that of the dead man. Behind the silken wall he halted and lowered his burden to the ground, and there he remained motionless for several minutes, listening.
Satisfied, at last, that no one had seen him, he stooped and raised the bottom of the tent wall, backed in and dragged the thing that had been Mohammed Beyd after him. To the sleeping rugs of the dead raider he drew the corpse, then he fumbled78 about in the darkness until he had found Mohammed Beyd's revolver. With the weapon in his hand he returned to the side of the dead man, kneeled beside the bedding, and inserted his right hand with the weapon beneath the rugs, piled a number of thicknesses of the closely woven fabric79 over and about the revolver with his left hand. Then he pulled the trigger, and at the same time he coughed.
The muffled80 report could not have been heard above the sound of his cough by one directly outside the tent. Werper was satisfied. A grim smile touched his lips as he withdrew the weapon from the rugs and placed it carefully in the right hand of the dead man, fixing three of the fingers around the grip and the index finger inside the trigger guard.
A moment longer he tarried to rearrange the disordered rugs, and then he left as he had entered, fastening down the rear wall of the tent as it had been before he had raised it.
Going to the tent of the prisoner he removed there also the evidence that someone might have come or gone beneath the rear wall. Then he returned to his own tent, entered, fastened down the canvas, and crawled into his blankets.
The following morning he was awakened52 by the excited voice of Mohammed Beyd's slave calling to him at the entrance of his tent.
"Quick! Quick!" cried the black in a frightened tone. "Come! Mohammed Beyd is dead in his tent—dead by his own hand."
Werper sat up quickly in his blankets at the first alarm, a startled expression upon his countenance81; but at the last words of the black a sigh of relief escaped his lips and a slight smile replaced the tense lines upon his face.
"I come," he called to the slave, and drawing on his boots, rose and went out of his tent.
Excited Arabs and blacks were running from all parts of the camp toward the silken tent of Mohammed Beyd, and when Werper entered he found a number of the raiders crowded about the corpse, now cold and stiff.
Shouldering his way among them, the Belgian halted beside the dead body of the raider. He looked down in silence for a moment upon the still face, then he wheeled upon the Arabs.
"Who has done this thing?" he cried. His tone was both menacing and accusing. "Who has murdered Mohammed Beyd?"
A sudden chorus of voices arose in tumultuous protest.
"Mohammed Beyd was not murdered," they cried. "He died by his own hand. This, and Allah, are our witnesses," and they pointed to a revolver in the dead man's hand.
For a time Werper pretended to be skeptical82; but at last permitted himself to be convinced that Mohammed Beyd had indeed killed himself in remorse83 for the death of the white woman he had, all unknown to his followers84, loved so devotedly85.
Werper himself wrapped the blankets of the dead man about the corpse, taking care to fold inward the scorched86 and bullet-torn fabric that had muffled the report of the weapon he had fired the night before. Then six husky blacks carried the body out into the clearing where the camp stood, and deposited it in a shallow grave. As the loose earth fell upon the silent form beneath the tell-tale blankets, Albert Werper heaved another sigh of relief—his plan had worked out even better than he had dared hope.
With Achmet Zek and Mohammed Beyd both dead, the raiders were without a leader, and after a brief conference they decided87 to return into the north on visits to the various tribes to which they belonged. Werper, after learning the direction they intended taking, announced that for his part, he was going east to the coast, and as they knew of nothing he possessed which any of them coveted88, they signified their willingness that he should go his way.
As they rode off, he sat his horse in the center of the clearing watching them disappear one by one into the jungle, and thanked his God that he had at last escaped their villainous clutches.
When he could no longer hear any sound of them, he turned to the right and rode into the forest toward the tree where he had hidden Lady Greystoke, and drawing rein89 beneath it, called up in a gay and hopeful voice a pleasant, "Good morning!"
There was no reply, and though his eyes searched the thick foliage90 above him, he could see no sign of the girl. Dismounting, he quickly climbed into the tree, where he could obtain a view of all its branches. The tree was empty—Jane Clayton had vanished during the silent watches of the jungle night.
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1
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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encompass
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| vt.围绕，包围；包含，包括；完成 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reaper
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| n.收割者，收割机 | |
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spurn
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| v.拒绝，摈弃；n.轻视的拒绝；踢开 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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buckling
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| 扣住 | |
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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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clinch
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| v.敲弯，钉牢；确定；扭住对方 [参]clench | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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futilely
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| futile（无用的）的变形； 干 | |
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momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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perfidy
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| n.背信弃义，不忠贞 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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arraignment
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| n.提问，传讯，责难 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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40
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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42
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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46
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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eradicated
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| 画着根的 | |
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51
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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52
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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53
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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54
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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55
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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56
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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57
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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58
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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exteriors
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| n.外面( exterior的名词复数 )；外貌；户外景色图 | |
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61
calloused
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| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
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lures
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| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
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outlawry
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| 宣布非法，非法化，放逐 | |
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ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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