THE KANAKA’S EXPERIMENT

DURING the following days a considerable change came over life in general on board. Order and discipline held undisputed sway. Now that the convicts knew that they were rich, they welcomed almost with gladness the necessity of conforming to regularity and method.

They worked with a will for the well-being and safety of the ship.

The _Bayard_ was re-christened _Estrella_, and flew the Argentine flag. Sure of his men henceforward, Chéri-Bibi relaxed from time to time the vigilance to which the families of the overseers had up to then been subjected. The women and children were permitted, as before, to play and gossip on the quarter-deck which was reserved for them during certain hours of the day. The prisoners were well treated and allowed out of the cages now and then, so as to have a breath of fresh air on the upper deck. The men with families on board were granted the right to communicate with them.

True, the landing of the prisoners was deferred to some indefinite and far distant date. This and many other matters had been decided at a conference which lasted for some time and to which most of the hotheads among the convicts were convened.

As a matter of fact it was impossible to set anyone whatever at liberty until the famous five million francs were received. Such a course would have proclaimed to the world, which believed that the _Bayard_ had perished with all hands, that she was still sailing the seas with her cargo of convicts.

Later on, when they felt some sense of security and were rich and safely sheltered in the Malay Archipelago, they would rid themselves of those embarrassing human packages whom they were obliged to maintain from the ship’s stores. Fortunately the provisions appeared to be inexhaustible, and it would be easy to replenish them, by force if necessary, from one of the defenseless towns on the African coast where European civilization had set up its stores.

The main thing was to land, at the earliest moment, Chéri-Bibi’s lieutenant, who was to bring back the five millions.

Their choice had fallen on the Dodger, who had given proof of unbounded devotion to his chief, and who had been the main factor in liberating the convicts. Moreover, it was conveyed to him that convict law would follow him in whatever part of the world he might be, if he failed to run straight and to conduct himself like an honest man.

The Dodger knew enough of the men with whom he had to deal to realize that it was impossible for him to escape their vengeance when once they had pronounced judgment. Moreover, he loved but one being on earth, and that being was Chéri-Bibi.

He would have preferred not to be parted from him, but Chéri-Bibi had given the word and there was nothing for it but to obey.

The Marquis du Touchais made every arrangement to render the Dodger’s mission an easy one. The Dodger would leave the ship possessed of the necessary papers and instructions. It would be his business to see the Marchioness and a certain solicitor in Paris. Both of them would be apprised by him, and receive written statements from the Marquis, warning them that the slightest indiscretion would cost Chéri-Bibi’s prisoners their lives.

The reason why the amount of the ransom had been fixed by Chéri-Bibi at five million francs only was that as a result of the Marquis’s representations, it was regarded as impossible for Cecily and the solicitor in Paris to realize a greater sum in bank notes in the comparatively short time--a few months only--which was allotted to the Dodger in which to complete the transaction. The bank notes would have to be changed gradually by the Dodger, before the Marquis’s liberation, so that there might be no question later of any trouble over the numbers. In short, they believed that they had omitted no precaution.

For a time they were inclined to entrust this difficult mission to Chéri-Bibi’s sister, St. Mary of the Angels, but not only was the poor girl in an alarming state of weakness, but Chéri-Bibi refused to allow her to be mixed up in this “murderous business,” as he called it in moments of nervous strain.

They were steaming at full speed for Cape Town, and life on board was becoming somewhat monotonous when an extraordinary incident occurred which threw the crew in general and the Dodger in particular into a condition of unspeakable ferment.

It may be mentioned that no one had set eyes on the Marquis again, not even his friends who were free to live on board as they pleased. They waited upon themselves, rarely addressing a word even to those with whom they came in contact, and whom, for that matter, they regarded with feelings of dread. But they were not allowed to go near the spot where they were informed the Marquis was confined. No one except the Kanaka, the Countess and Chéri-Bibi was entitled to see him. It was said that the Marquis had been relegated to a large dark cabin, next to the sick-bay, but that he was entirely isolated from the sick-bay itself by a makeshift partition.

Outside the door of this cabin an orderly was posted whose instructions were to fire on any person attempting to approach the door.

Chéri-Bibi made an official explanation of the reason of this isolation. The Marquis was suffering from a contagious disease.

It was at first thought that they had to do with cholera or yellow fever or something of that sort, but when they saw the Kanaka and the Countess go backwards and forwards, tending the patient in what was a dangerous illness, and Chéri-Bibi visiting him, without taking any precaution, the crew quickly came to the conclusion that it was not a question of a sick person in the cabin, but of a prisoner representing five million francs who was being guarded with all the honors and attentions due to his rank and fortune.

The thought that possibly the Marquis was really ill, and that his illness might lead to death, did not unduly worry the convicts, for they were aware that Chéri-Bibi had already in his possession the papers containing the Marquis’s signature, and that if by ill-luck he were to die, they would none the less receive the five millions even if they were reduced to handing over a corpse in exchange. But the much more simple idea of a carefully guarded prisoner, which occurred to them afterwards, afforded them considerable amusement. And they smilingly asked Chéri-Bibi from time to time for news of the Marquis. Chéri-Bibi himself, however, did not smile.

Far from it. They had never known him so sparing of words. Moreover, he was hardly ever seen, but was waited upon in his own cabin, replying in monosyllables to the Dodger’s anxious questions, and never leaving his cabin except to go to the Marquis or visit his sister.

One evening the Dodger, who was looking out for him, feeling more and more perplexed by his curious attitude and his appearance of painful abstraction, saw him go into the Marquis’s cabin with the Kanaka and the Countess, but waited in vain for him to come out again. The Dodger was determined to ask a few serious questions, for he feared that Chéri-Bibi might fall ill.

The Dodger’s anxiety was greatly increased when, about four o’clock in the morning, he saw the Countess come out of the cabin, her sleeves turned back to the elbows, and her face showing signs of agitation. He ran up to her at the risk of being shot by the orderly on guard. The Countess pushed him aside, hastened to her own cabin, and appeared again, with a small chest which she concealed under a shawl, returning once more to the Marquis’s cabin.

Up to eight o’clock in the morning no one had yet been seen again.

At length the Countess appeared accompanied by the Kanaka, who had a peculiar expression on his face. Nevertheless they both seemed quite self-possessed. They answered the Dodger’s questions about Chéri-Bibi by stating that he was quite well though slightly exhausted by his work with the Marquis, but there was no cause for alarm.

“You should tell him to be sensible and take a rest,” groaned the Dodger.

“Chéri-Bibi is man enough to look after himself,” returned the Kanaka in icy tones. And he passed on without another word.

The Dodger stood facing the mysterious cabin whose silence terrified him. No sound emerged from it. Even when the Marquis was in it alone, the Dodger could not pass its precincts without a shudder. And now a terrible anxiety held him in its grip as he thought that Chéri-Bibi, like the Marquis, might never come out of it again. A few minutes later an orderly appeared and requested the Dodger to leave the place.

The morning of the next day passed amid fears that could not but increase. The Dodger questioned the guards who had been on duty at the door, but the men replied that they had not seen Chéri-Bibi go in or out. Where was he? Obviously he was still in the cabin. And what was he doing there? The extraordinary thing was that during the last twenty-four hours no food had been taken into the cabin. The Dodger’s alarm was imparted, by degrees, to the entire crew. Chéri-Bibi was no longer to be seen. They wanted to see him. They would have questioned the Kanaka and the Countess, but they too had been shut up in their cabin for hours, and were as invisible as the Marquis and Chéri-Bibi.

Excitement reached its limit when the Toper, in the presence of the officers gathered together for lunch in the ward-room, opened and read a communication which the orderly on duty outside the cabin had just delivered to him. The letter contained three brief sentences from Chéri-Bibi: “You are instructed to obey the Kanaka in all things until you see me again. The Kanaka will merely transmit my orders to you. To obey the Kanaka is to obey Chéri-Bibi.” Under the three sentences was Chéri-Bibi’s signature; and then followed a few lines in the Kanaka’s handwriting:

“The Countess and I are taking care of Chéri-Bibi, who has caught the Marquis’s fever through looking after him. Chéri-Bibi’s life is not in danger, but it is impossible for us to leave him at the moment. I ask the Toper and the officers to remove any fears entertained by the crew.”

The convicts looked at each other askance. The Dodger, who had come in for news, read and re-read the communication. The whole thing seemed so mysterious that no one ventured to put forward any theory. The crew at once found themselves in a state of helplessness, and a heavy gloom prevailed on board. Chéri-Bibi was ill. There was not a man among the convicts who would not have given a limb to save his life. It was certain that cholera was on board. And to think that they had been under the impression that the whole thing was make-believe!

The men who, one after the other, mounted guard at the cabin door exchanged their opinions, and these were now circulating through the ship. The thing that surprised them more than anything else was the unwonted silence.

When the Marquis and Chéri-Bibi were alone in the cabin, the guards did not hear a murmur, though necessarily the slightest conversation would have reached their ears. In the same way, when the Kanaka and the Countess entered the cabin, their visit was not followed by any talk which the guards could hear.

The domestic services were entirely performed by the Countess, and these were reduced to very small proportions.... Hardly any food was taken in from outside, and it consisted only of a few basins of herb-tea and a little broth, and even so these were not required every day. It was as though the cabin were inhabited by ghosts.

Nevertheless, on the final day a guard heard terrible gasps. He was not, of course, able to say from whom they emanated.

As may be imagined, the appearance of the Kanaka and the Countess that day was impatiently awaited. Neither of them was seen, though occasionally their footsteps were heard.

The Dodger, who lay awake for several nights, at last gave way to sleep, although he had tried hard to keep his eyes open. He was sleeping like a log when one of his friends who had just been relieved from mounting guard at the cabin door awakened him.

The man had, this time, heard Chéri-Bibi’s voice quite clearly. It was a weary voice which said with a groan--at least the guard thought so--“Not his hands.... Not his hands.” The Dodger was on his feet in an instant.

“Some accident has happened to Chéri-Bibi, that’s a certainty.”

Since it was impossible for him to go near the cabin, he would make his way into the sick-bay on some pretense or other and by flattening his ear against the new partition he might perhaps hear something.

He reached the place a few minutes later in a state of terrible anxiety, and as a matter of fact he did hear something.... The guard had not been dreaming. Chéri-Bibi was continuing to lament, but--and this was the amazing part--his words, which on every other occasion proclaimed his personal suffering, were now uttered in compassion for the other. For there was no possibility of error; he wanted the other man to be left alone. Therefore, what was being done to him? Chéri-Bibi’s voice could be heard saying with a groan: “That’s enough as it is. Leave him his hands. It’s too awful. Oh no, not his hands, not his hands.” And thereupon Chéri-Bibi heaved a tremendous sigh. As to the other man, his voice could not be heard. No lamentation came from him. It was incomprehensible.

Nevertheless the Dodger knew a great deal. During the time that he was associated with Chéri-Bibi, he was the recipient of many confidences from him. And when the Dodger learnt that one of the shipwrecked persons was the Marquis du Touchais, he trembled for the rich nobleman’s life. That Chéri-Bibi would be revenged on Cecily’s husband, by torturing him or having him tortured, was in keeping with the methods of convicts. But since it was the Marquis who was being tortured why was it Chéri-Bibi who was gasping and moaning?... And such gasping!

The Dodger shuddered to the very marrow.

At that moment he recognized the Kanaka’s hard voice:

“You know, Chéri-Bibi, you must not talk.”

“All right,” returned Chéri-Bibi, “I won’t say another word, but you’ve gone far enough as it is. Leave him alone. Don’t touch his hands, I can’t endure it. No, no, not his hands.”

Three nurses, of whom one was a woman, had joined the Dodger, and they listened behind the partition without understanding what it all meant, but they had the sensation that something monstrous was taking place in the cabin.

They would have liked to communicate to each other their impressions, their apprehensions, but the Dodger held up his hand in token of silence, and they resumed their listening.

A hush had fallen once more in the cabin.

They could no longer hear speech, or moan or gasp or sound. A quarter of an hour elapsed and the Dodger and his companions stood up, tired of listening in their cramped positions, when the Countess’s voice, which they had not caught until then, reached their ears very distinctly.

“If Chéri-Bibi were sensible,” she said, “we could finish the job at once.”

“Yes, but he’s not sensible,” answered the Kanaka. “He has only himself to blame.”

And then they distinguished Chéri-Bibi’s voice:

“Leave him his hands, leave him his hands. You see yourself how much I’m suffering.”

What were they doing to the Marquis’s hands, and what had the Marquis’s hands to do with Chéri-Bibi’s suffering?

It was enough to drive him out of his senses, especially as Chéri-Bibi was moaning again, and at each moan the Dodger felt sick at heart. The poor fellow was almost fainting. Moreover, the remainder of the conversation was not calculated to bring him round.

“Oh, the devils ... the devils ... the devils,” panted Chéri-Bibi.

“If you talk again,” the Kanaka broke in, “I shall be forced to gag you. Countess, pass me the gag.”

“No, no, don’t gag me. I won’t speak again ... but leave him his hands. Oh, he’s had enough of it. How I suffer ... how I suffer.”

The Dodger, who was trembling in every limb, was at the end of his endurance. In a hollow voice which fear had entirely changed he cried:

“I’m here, Chéri-Bibi.... Do you want me?”

A great silence reigned in the cabin.

The Dodger took up anew his appeal in more and more despairing and supplicating tones:

“It’s I, Chéri-Bibi, the Dodger.”

He showered blows on the partition with his fists. But at the same moment someone tapped him on the shoulder. The Toper stood behind him.

The guard had called up the Toper, and by Chéri-Bibi’s orders “the Dodger was to be put in irons for twenty-four hours.”

“Is it true that you’re having me put in irons, Chéri-Bibi?... You?... I can’t believe it. Shout no, and we’ll come and set you free.... Chéri-Bibi.... Chéri-Bibi.”

But no answer came from Chéri-Bibi and the Dodger was dragged away.

“Damn it all.... What’s happening in that cabin,” groaned the unhappy man as he went off with the Toper.

The Dodger served his twenty-four hours in irons. As soon as his time was over he hastened to seek information. There was nothing fresh. The Kanaka had not yet left the cabin. The Countess came out for a few minutes, ran to the galleys to warm some broth into which she poured some ingredient, nobody knew what, and returned to the Kanaka without answering the questions that were put to her. She was enveloped in an overall which covered a white smock-frock the lower part of which was bloodstained, and she was wearing gloves. Her face, it appears, was terrifying to see. She left in the Toper’s hands a written order:

“All’s well. The Kanaka is my man. Chéri-Bibi.”

“They make him believe just what they like, those ruffians,” exclaimed the Dodger. And he asked if any more wails and groans had come from the cabin.

Nothing more had been heard. Ah, yes ... the Kanaka’s voice was heard telling the guard at the door that the crew would see him during the day, and they needn’t worry themselves.

“We needn’t worry ourselves! He’s a beauty, he is.”

Of course the Dodger did worry himself.

And then in his turn he disappeared.

He went off and ransacked the Kanaka and the Countess’s special cabin. He found the medicine chests and surgical instruments belonging to the doctor who had died on the field of honor, in short, nothing of any importance. But he did not leave the cabin. It occurred to him that sooner or later the Kanaka and the Countess would return, and he would not be sorry to overhear their conversation.

With this intention, he hid himself under a bunk, and waited patiently for some three or four hours. At long last the Kanaka and the Countess came in. They closed the door. They had the faces of ghosts who had suffered the tortures or savored the delights of the damned, and they quickly threw off their outer garments and removed their gloves. They were covered with blood. It looked as if they had come from a blood bath.

The Dodger, who was of a somewhat nervous temperament, uttered a groan and was on the point of fainting.

The Kanaka and the Countess at once bent down and discovered the poor fellow, dragged him from under the bunk, and stood him as best they could on his feet.

“What are you doing here?” demanded the Kanaka, whose rage was terrible to see.

His eyes sent forth angry flashes and his teeth were thrust forward as though he were about to eat the wretched Dodger, who trembled and leaned against the bulkhead but who was not devoid of courage.

“I wanted to catch you out, murderer,” he cried. “Cannibal!”

The Countess shot him a blow in the face with all her might.

“Leave him alone, Ketty,” said the Kanaka, making a grab at the Countess’s arm, which had already started on a second journey. “Leave the poor fellow alone. Chéri-Bibi himself will see that he’s punished.”

“What have you done with Chéri-Bibi, you scoundrels?” went on the Dodger as he rubbed his smarting cheek. “Have you eaten him, too?”

This time the Kanaka sprang at his throat, and the Dodger panted for breath under his clenched fingers.

“Beg the Countess’s pardon. Beg the Countess’s pardon,” he spluttered furiously.

But the Dodger was unable to utter a word. He was choking. His tongue protruded from his mouth like the tongue of a man who is hanged.

“Luckily for you, you villain, we caught you at once. If you had heard a single word of what’s no business of yours, your goose would have been cooked. Now clear out!”

He threw him into the alley-way. The Dodger fell his length on the deck and lay there for a few moments before he could recover his breath. The Toper and Carrots, who were passing, picked him up and he told them the story of his encounter.

He went off with them, cursing the Kanaka and his wife, and declaring that things were happening on board which no one could understand, and they would all “suffer in the end.” His two “pals” dared not say a word in reply, but he was conscious that they shared his opinion.

The mystery in which the inexplicable absence of Chéri-Bibi was enveloped was beginning to weigh heavily on board; secret meetings were held in every corner. Once more there was a disbelief in an epidemic. Obviously it was not for the purpose of tending patients in a fever that the Kanaka and the Countess were “dressed like butchers.”

In short, the crew were agreed that at all costs they must know the truth about Chéri-Bibi. They must see and have speech with him. Such was their general frame of mind when the Kanaka sent to inform the officers that he was waiting to see them in the Captain’s cabin.

The officers lost no time in obeying the summons.

The Kanaka received them imperturbably seated at the little writing-table, examining with seeming tranquillity of mind various papers, and the officers were at first reassured. True, the Kanaka was pale and seemed overtired; but all the same he did not have the appearance of a man who was the bearer of bad news.

He opened by referring to their various duties, and asked several questions about the prisoners, the store of provisions and the quantity of coal still remaining in the bunkers. The Kanaka was the only man among the officers, perhaps, who knew anything about navigation; his knowledge was sufficient at any rate to correct the ship’s course, and to take command of the old crew who were obliged to continue their duties under pain of death. Therefore as a general rule he was listened to and obeyed.

But on this occasion he had to deal with absentminded men whose thoughts were concentrated only on Chéri-Bibi. They were surprised that he did not speak of him, since the state of his health was the only question which interested them. Their stupefaction knew no bounds when they received the order to retire.

They remained in their places.

The Toper opened fire.

“Commander, we shall be in Cape Town in a few days,” he said with an affectation of great politeness and strict discipline.

“Yes, what about it?”

“Many serious matters will have to be decided.”

“Well, what then?”

“We can’t decide them without Chéri-Bibi. Commander, our men are very anxious about Chéri-Bibi. We can’t go on much longer without knowing what’s the matter with him. I felt bound to tell you that. We should like to see Chéri-Bibi.”

“Yes, yes. We want to see him,” chimed in several voices.

“Impossible,” replied the Kanaka laconically.

“Of course,” said Little Buddha, “he may not be able to see us all, but we could delegate one of our number to see him. Look here, we’re not asking a great deal. Let the Dodger see him for five minutes, and then we shall be easy in our minds.”

“Neither the Dodger nor anyone else. It’s quite out of the question,” returned the Kanaka obstinately.

“Well, in that case, let us speak to him at the door and let him answer us.”

“Chéri-Bibi just now can’t say anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because he can’t speak.”

“Then let him write and tell us what has happened and set our minds at rest. Should there be anything that must not be known generally, a couple of us only will read the message, and we shall be satisfied.”

“Chéri-Bibi can’t write.”

“Look here, Kanaka, you’re pulling our legs,” he blazed out, forgetting discipline and losing the dignity which pertained to his new position. “You’re not going to leave here until you’ve given us some explanation.”

“You can do what you like, but you’ll get no explanation from me.”

“We’ll force our way into the cabin....”

“You can do as you like, I tell you. Only afterwards don’t come and claim the five millions....”

“Oh, it has to do with the five millions....”

“What do you suppose it has to do with? Let Chéri-Bibi work the Marquis in his own way. There’ll be plenty of time to ask him to explain matters when he has made the Marquis fork out the shekels. And now, gentlemen, I won’t keep you any longer.”

They left the cabin with considerable misgivings. The Dodger did not utter a word. They asked him what he thought of it all. He shook his head and answered that he had his own idea.

The crew became more and more alarmed. How was it possible for Chéri-Bibi to “work the five millions” if he could neither speak nor write?

Next day, after the Kanaka and the Countess were shut up with Chéri-Bibi and the Marquis for half an hour, extraordinary howls were heard proceeding from the cabin. It was like a dog baying at death. Men crowded into the alley-way and all eyes were fixed on the door while the howls grew louder--louder and more frightful. Only a wild beast or a madman could howl like that. And this time they clearly recognized the Marquis’s voice, particularly when mingled with the yells they caught the sound of words babbled in pain though they could not grasp the sense of them.

And then the howls changed to shrieks, to fierce barking, to wild sobs. And then suddenly they stopped.

The crowd of convicts stood in the alley-way for another quarter of an hour with a look of terror in their eyes. And by slow degrees, as nothing further was heard, they melted away.

Later in the night more groans were heard, and these also came from the Marquis. They did not hear Chéri-Bibi’s voice again. And it was this which produced a greater strain of anxiety than when the groans came from him.

The Dodger, gloomy and sullen, did not leave the deck, nor did he answer anyone who spoke to him.

One evening the lookout man cried: “Land on the port bow!” and the Dodger said with a sigh: “At last!”

Some minutes later the Kanaka came to meet him.

“Dodger, we’re near land,” he said. “In a few hours we shall be at Cape Town. You know that we are to land you a little below Malmesbury. Pack up your traps, my lad. We shall give you all the necessary papers, and you’ll find the complete scheme of what you’ve got to do written out in Chéri-Bibi’s handwriting. Are you ready?”

“No,” returned the Dodger, who had been nursing an idea.

“Why not?”

“Because I refuse to take upon myself this job until I’ve had a final interview with Chéri-Bibi.”

“You’ve made up your mind?”

“I’ve made up my mind.”

“Can I tell Chéri-Bibi so?”

“By all means, Kanaka....”

The crew were soon aware that the two men were at variance, and they considered that the Dodger was in the right. Excitement was general, and there was no doubt that the most reckless among them were inclined to take extreme measures when the Kanaka came back and said simply:

“Chéri-Bibi will see the Dodger before he goes.”

The crew gave way to shouts of joy and cheers.

The Dodger left them to pack up his things in a state of great emotion. It was quite dark when the Kanaka came to fetch him. The Dodger followed him trembling in every limb. At last the cabin door was opened; and the Toper, Little Buddha, the Top and Carrots waited outside to hear the result of the interview.

When he first entered the cabin the Dodger could distinguish absolutely nothing. No light was burning. Then gradually, as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw by the faint glimmer that filtered through the port hole, the upstanding outline of the Countess, and afterwards, at his right and left, two bodies lying on bunks, or rather two mere shadows deprived of all power of movement.

He could not have said which was Chéri-Bibi and which was the Marquis.

The sound of Chéri-Bibi’s voice soon put an end to his doubts.

“Sit down here, Dodger.”

A chair was drawn up, and as he dropped into it he whispered:

“Chéri-Bibi!”

“So you wanted to see me before you go, my dear fellow.”

“My dear Chéri-Bibi.... Have you been very ill, then?... Are you getting better now?... Give us your fist, old pal.”

“No, no,” interposed the Kanaka. “Stay where you are, you mustn’t touch his hand. You mustn’t touch him.”

“It’s not allowed,” agreed Chéri-Bibi. “You see I’m suffering from some contagious disease....”

“I can’t see anything, it’s too dark,” groaned the Dodger. “I’d like to see your face ... to make sure that you’re not off color.”

“You can’t have a light. I can’t allow it for the present,” broke in the Kanaka again. “He mustn’t tire his eyes.”

“But, good Lord, what’s the matter with you?”

“I’ll tell you that later on, Dodger.... Now we must talk of serious things.... And be quick about it, for the Kanaka, who knows his business as a doctor, won’t give us more than five minutes.”

“Five minutes.... How weak your voice is.... I can scarcely recognize it.... You must have had a bad time, old man.”

“He is weak.... That’s quite true.... Don’t tire him,” said the Kanaka. “Get on with it.”

“As to the Kanaka,” said Chéri-Bibi, speaking with some difficulty, as if it hurt him to move his jaws and he was too exhausted to articulate his words clearly. “You must tell the Toper and the others that the Kanaka has looked after me well and saved my life, and they must carry out his orders in any and everything.... Now listen carefully. The Kanaka saved my life. That’s worth a bit. He must have a million francs for himself.”

“The others will never agree to that,” said the Dodger.

“You needn’t tell them and they won’t know about it. The Marquis, who is very generous and whom the Kanaka has also looked after well, agrees with me that ‘it’s worth a million.’ You’ll see it all set out in the papers. It’s six millions that’ll be handed over to you, one million for the Kanaka apart from the other money.... Now listen to this: By the time you come back I hope to be well again, but if I am not ... we must look ahead ... if ... if I’m dead....”

“Don’t talk like that ... don’t say that.... I’d much rather stay behind....” groaned the Dodger.

“Well, if anything does happen to the Marquis or me, or to both of us, you will be carrying out my last wishes by giving the Kanaka a million francs without letting anyone know about it.... Is that understood?”

“That’s understood,” agreed the Dodger in solemn tones. And he turned towards the other body lying in the darkness on the opposite side, but the Marquis was as motionless as if he were dead.

“You are artful and have your wits about you,” went on Chéri-Bibi with a sigh. “If you follow the instructions that I’ve written out, you won’t run into any danger, and it will be as easy for you to get the money as it is for a workman to draw his wages on pay day. You will be put ashore to-night. Don’t show yourself for a couple of days, and then we shall be some distance away. If anyone asks for your papers you can say that you left the _Estrella_ while she was coaling to go on the spree, and you haven’t got any. They made you drunk and you’re a Frenchman who wants to be sent home.... You’ll pull through right enough.”

“Yes, you needn’t worry about that. I wasn’t born yesterday, you may be sure. Everything will be all right, never fear.”

“I know you, old man. You have a knack of getting through difficulties. You mustn’t dawdle. We’ll give you five months to the day. Five months from now we shall wait for you for two or three weeks at Palmerston in the Northern Territory of South Australia. It’s a nice little place which I know well, and it’s as quiet as can be. You can write to me as instructed in the papers, addressing me _poste restante_. To get back you must take the China boat and stop at Batavia. There is a service of steamers between Batavia and Palmerston. Do you follow me?”

“I understand.... Five months.... That’s a long time without seeing you.”

“Afterwards you shan’t leave me, my dear old Dodger.”

“Have you finished?” asked the Kanaka.

“Oh, give us another minute longer, you know,” begged the Dodger, who felt an inclination to weep.

Chéri-Bibi seemed to make an effort, and he said with a deep sigh:

“You will have the luck to see Cecily.... Well, have a good look at her ... look at her for me.... And when you come back you’ll be able to tell me if she is as beautiful as ever.”

“Well, he doesn’t trouble himself much about the Marquis,” thought the Dodger. And he turned his eyes once more to him, but the Marquis still maintained his deathlike attitude. “I don’t like the look of it,” he said to himself.... “Sure enough he’s kicked the bucket already.... Why doesn’t he stir?”

But the Kanaka interrupted his reflections and made him get up.

“Good-bye, Dodger.”

“Good-bye, Chéri-Bibi.... I’d very much like to shake hands with you before I go.... Isn’t there any chance?”

“No,” said the Kanaka.

“All right, all right. I’m off. Good-bye, Chéri-Bibi, good-bye.... Get better soon.”

And he allowed himself to be put outside the door as he burst into sobs.

The _Estrella_ stopped that night. A long-boat was lowered and soon landed the Dodger on a lonely part of the coast.

“Good luck,” cried the Kanaka, who had accompanied him so far.

“Good luck.... Look after Chéri-Bibi and you can count me as your friend.”

The long-boat’s crew were already pulling hard for the _Estrella_, whose lights could be discerned a few cable-lengths away.

“A million francs,” said the Dodger to himself, thinking of the Kanaka. “Well, there’s a sudden death merchant who doesn’t look after the poor for nothing.... His prescriptions cost a bit!”

And he plunged into the bush.

EXTRACT FROM _THE TIMES_

(From our Special Correspondent)

SINGAPORE.

“It is officially announced that an end has been made at last of the notorious _Bayard_ and her convict crew. The French cruiser _La Gloire_, which was on her track during the whole of last year, and from which she succeeded in escaping in the many groups of island of the Malay Archipelago, came up with her in the Molucca Sea, near the Sula Islands. _La Gloire_ at once opened fire. A quick engagement ensued, and the _Bayard_ was blown up. Three-fourths of the crew were drowned. The remainder, who had taken to the boats and were attempting to escape, preferred to be shot rather than to surrender. _La Gloire_ picked up over a hundred dead bodies, among which they were able to identify the leader of the gang, the Kanaka, and the Countess, his terrible wife. It is known that the Kanaka took over the position of Captain of these abominable pirates after Chéri-Bibi’s strange disappearance. Thus ends the astounding organisation which has occupied the attention of the whole world for such long months, and which terrorised the entire China Seas; but the fact remains that the infamous Chéri-Bibi is still at large; for on the best of authority it can be stated that he left the _S. S. Bayard_ some weeks before she was sunk.”

The amazing circumstances in which Chéri-Bibi was able to impersonate the Marquis du Touchais, and the further adventures of this extraordinary character are told in “Missing Men,” which will be published shortly.

=TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES=

Simple typographical errors have been silently corrected.

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.