The Man in Grey | Page 5

overtaken him, and he could no
longer evade them; they held him tightly, surrounding him on every
side and clamouring for their share of the spoils.
"We'll settle here and now, friend Silver-Leg," said Hare-Lip, who
appeared to be the acknowledged spokesman of the malcontents. "Two
hundred francs for me out of that wallet, if you please, ere you move
another step, and two hundred for each one of us here, or ----"
The man with the wooden leg had come to a halt, but somehow it

seemed that he had not done so because the others held and compelled
him, but because he himself had a desire to stand still. Now when
Hare-Lip paused, a world of menace in every line of his gaunt,
quivering body, Silver-Leg laughed with gentle irony, as a man would
laugh at the impotent vapourings of a child.
"Or what, my good Hare-Lip?" he queried slowly.
Then as the other instinctively lowered his gaze and mumbled
something between his teeth, Silver-Leg shrugged his shoulders and
said with kind indulgence, still as if he were speaking to a child:
"Madame will settle, my friend. Do not worry. It is bad to worry. You
remember Fear-Nought: he took to worrying -- just as you are doing
now -- wanted to be paid out of his turn, or more than his share, I forget
which. But you remember him?"
"I do," muttered Hare-Lip with a savage oath. "Fear-Nought was
tracked down by the police and dragged to Vincennes, or Force, or
Bicêtre -- we never knew."
"To the guillotine, my good Hare-Lip," rejoined Silver-Leg blandly,
"along with some other very brave Chouans like yourselves, who also
had given their leaders some considerable trouble."
"Betrayed by you," growled Hare-Lip menacingly.
"Punished -- that's all," concluded Silver-Leg as he once more turned to
go.
"Treachery is a game at which more than one can play."
"The stakes are high. And only one man can win," remarked Silver-Leg
dryly.
"And one man must lose," shouted Hare-Lip, now beside himself with
rage, "and that one shall be you this time, my fine Silver-Leg. À moi,
my mates!" he called to his companions.

And in a moment the men fell on Silver-Leg with the vigour born of
terror and greed, and for the first moment or two of their desperate
tussle it seemed as if the man with the wooden leg must succumb to the
fury of his assailants. Darkness encompassed them all round, and the
deep silence which dwells in the heart of the woods. And in the
darkness and the silence these men fought -- and fought desperately --
for the possession of a few hundred francs just filched at the muzzle of
a pistol from a few peaceable travellers.
Pistols of course could not be used; the police patrols might not be far
away, and so they fought on in silence, grim and determined, one man
against half a dozen, and that one halt, and weighted with the spoils.
But he had the strength of a giant, and with his back against a stately fir
tree he used the heavy wallet as a flail, keeping his assailants at arm's
length with the menace of death-dealing blows.
Then, suddenly, from far away, even through the dull thuds of this
weird and grim struggle, there came the sound of men approaching --
the click of sabres, the tramp and snorting of horses, the sense of men
moving rapidly even if cautiously through the gloom. Silver-Leg was
the first to hear it.
"Hush!" he cried suddenly, and as loudly as he dared, "the police!"
Again, with that blind instinct born of terror and ever-present danger,
the others obeyed. The common peril had as swiftly extinguished the
quarrel as greed of gain had fanned it into flame.
The cavalcade was manifestly drawing nearer.
"Disperse!" commanded Silver-Leg under his breath. "Clear out of the
wood, but avoid the tracks which lead out of it, lest it is surrounded.
Remember 'Corinne' for Monseigneur, and that Red-Poll can have the
key for Madame on Friday."
Once again he had made use of his opportunity. Before the others had
recovered from, their sudden fright, he had quietly stumped away, and
in less than five seconds was lost in the gloom among the trees. For a

moment or two longer an ear, attuned by terror or the constant sense of
danger, might have perceived the dull, uneven thud of his wooden leg
against the soft carpet of pine needles, but even this soon died away in
the distance, and over the kingdom of darkness which held sway within
the forest there fell once more the pall of deathlike silence. The posse
of police in search of human quarry had come and gone, the stealthy
footsteps of tracked criminals had ceased to