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Dave Darrin on Mediterranean Service, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 16. "Seeing" The Paris Apaches |
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_ CHAPTER XVI. "SEEING" THE PARIS APACHES The young ensign, after picking up a valuable clew, is attacked by savage Paris Apaches, who, angered by his defense, determine to take his life.
"I've no reason for fearing an encounter with Gortchky, unless he knows how to summon the murderous Apaches to his aid," Dave told himself as he pressed back as far as he could into his hiding place. "I don't want Gortchky, however, to know I'm watching him, and I don't want to lose this precious paper any more than he does." Touching the door accidentally with the hand that rested behind his back, Dave was delighted to feel it swing slightly open. In another instant he had backed into a corridor, softly closing the door after him. "Now Gortchky won't find me, and I'm all right, unless I am discovered by one of the occupants of this house, and turned over to the police as a burglar!" thought the young naval officer exultantly. Gortchky's step, now slower, went by the door, which Dave had left ajar by only the tiniest crack. "I cannot have lost that paper here, after all," Dave heard the international spy mutter in a low voice. "Certainly it has not been picked up, for I came back almost instantly, and there was no one near. It is not likely that I shall ever see that important little bit of paper again." Yet for a few moments longer Dave heard the international spy moving about as though still searching. Then the fellow's footsteps died out as he went around the corner. "I'll wait a few minutes before I step out," Darrin decided. "Gortchky may only be laying a trap, and even at this instant he may be peering around the corner to see if any one steps out of one of these doorways." Waiting for what seemed to be a long time, but what was actually only a few minutes, the young ensign stepped out to the sidewalk again. There were a few people on his own side of the block, and the sight of any one leaving a house was not likely to arouse curiosity in the minds of the denizens of that neighborhood. As Dave neared the next corner, however, four rough-looking fellows came out of a little cafe. Their bearing was full of swagger. These young men, in dress half student and half laborer, with caps pulled down over their eyes and gaily-knotted handkerchiefs around their necks, displayed the shifting, cunning look that is found in the hoodlum everywhere. As they reached the sidewalk, moving with the noiseless step peculiar to the Apache, they heard Darrin briskly coming along. Halting, they regarded him closely as he neared them. "They look like hard characters," Dave told himself. "However, if I mind my business, I guess they'll mind theirs." It was not to be. One of the Apaches, the tallest and slimmest of the lot, regarded Darrin with more curiosity than did any of the others. "Ho!" he cried. "See how stiffly our little student carries himself! He must have been to see his sweetheart, and feels proud of himself." "He has the stride of a banker," jeered another. "I wonder if he has his bank with him." Dave's ear, quickly attuned to the French tongue, caught and understood the words. "Let me see what you look like," urged the slim fellow, reaching out and plucking from Darrin's nose the blue eye glasses just as Dave was passing the group. That gesture and the act were so insulting that Ensign Darrin could not keep back the flash that leaped into his eyes. He halted, regarding the Apache steadily. "Why, bless me! He's an American!" cried the Apache. "All Americans are rich, you know. My friend, have you a few sous for a group of poor workingmen?" Dave essayed to pass on. As he did so, a foot was thrust out. Dave saw the movement and leaped over the foot to avoid being tripped. "At him!" hissed the slim Apache. "Let us shake out his pockets." Dave sprang forward, although he knew that he could not hope to run away. Instead, he leaped to a wall, placing his back against it. There he halted, glaring defiantly at his assailants, his fists up and ready for instant action. "Sail in! Trim him!" snarled the slim one. "If our little American shows fight--kill him!" The first who reached Dave reeled back with a broken nose, for Darrin's first was hard. "Stick the pig!" cried the leader, meaning that the young officer was to be stabbed. Not one of the four had a knife, it seemed. As they surrounded him, the one with the injured nose having returned to the fray, that slim Apache drew out a sandbag, long and narrow, shaped like a sausage, made of canvas and filled with sand. This is one of the most deadly weapons in the world. "Let us see what soothing medicine will do!" he jeered. In an instant all four had brought sandbags to light, and all closed in upon the desperate American. "Come on, you cowards!" roared Dave, forgetting his French and lapsing back into English. "If I go out I'll take one of you with me." Trying to tantalize their victim, the Apaches made thrusts at Ensign Dave, and then leaped nimbly back. It was their hope that he would spring forward at them and thus leave his rear unguarded. It is easiest to use the sandbag on a victim from behind, though the tactics now employed were favorites with the Apaches. Dave had sense enough to divine the nature of their trick. Unless the police arrived promptly he expected to be killed by these jeering scoundrels, but he was determined to sell his life dearly enough. Suddenly the young naval officer saw his chance and used it. One of his dancing tormentors got in too close. Darrin's right foot shot up and out, landing across the Apache's knee-cap. Uttering a howl of rage and pain, the fellow all but crawled back. "Kill the American," he howled. "Don't play with him." Instantly the three remaining assailants worked in closer, yet with all the caution of their wily natures. "Rush me!" taunted Dave, again in English. "Don't be so afraid. If you mean to kill me why don't you show courage enough to do it? Come on, you sneaks!" Though the Apaches could not understand what the young ensign said to them, they knew the drift of his jeering words. Their faces contorted with rage, they struck at him, Dave's arms working like piston rods in his efforts to ward off their blows. Close to the wall, slipping along on tip-toe came a tall figure. Then suddenly a newcomer leaped into the picture. Biff! smash! Struck from behind in the neck, two of the Apaches pitched forward, going to earth. Dave Darrin, with a feint, followed up with a swinging right-hand uppercut, laid the last of the Apaches low, for the fellow sitting in a doorway, nursing his knee and cursing, no longer counted. "Quick! Out of here!" ordered the newcomer, seizing Dave by the arm and starting him along. "Jetson!" gasped Ensign Darrin, looking into the face of his rescuer. "Yes," answered his brother officer. "Hurry along!" "Jetson, you've saved my life this time. That pack of wolves would have killed me in spite of my best defense." "We're not out of trouble yet," retorted Jetson, fairly pushing Darrin along. "Those Apaches will revive in a few seconds." "Pooh! Together, Jetson, we could thrash half a dozen of their kind, and find it only exercise." "But, my boy, don't you realize that there are more than three or four Apaches around the Rue d'Ansin? The alarm will sound, and a score more will rush up. These rascals are sure death, Darry, if they get at you in sufficient numbers! The Parisians fear them. You don't see a single citizen on the street now. Look! Every one of them flew to cover as soon as the Apaches moved into action. If bystanders interfered, or even watched, they too would have to reckon with these Apaches. Now, Darry, you're no coward, and neither am I, but if you're wise you will imitate me by taking to your heels." Still holding Dave's arm lightly, Jetson sprinted along to the next corner. "To the right," whispered Dave. "I've a taxicab here." More than halfway down the block they saw the car at the curb. The chauffeur, when Dave called, stepped from a doorway in which he had taken refuge. "The Apaches!" gasped the driver. "Hustle!" urged Dave. "Come on, Jetson." As the two young naval officers sprang into the car, the driver leaped to his own seat. Pressing the self-starter, the chauffeur soon had his machine gliding along. Nor did he go back, either, by way of the Rue d'Ansin. Not until he was four blocks away from the scene did the man ask for his orders. "Back to the Embassy," Dave instructed him. Then he remembered his comrade's swift, fine rescue. "Jetson," he asked, "did you know it was I who was menaced by the Apaches?" "I did not," replied his brother officer. "But I heard enough, at a distance, to know that an American was in trouble. In Paris that is sufficient for me. Darry, I am delighted that I happened along in time." "You saved my life, Jetson, and at the risk of your own. If you had missed one of the Apaches, or had lost your balance, your career would have been ended right there, along with mine." "You risked your life for me, Darry, back in the old Annapolis days, so we are even," answered Jetson gently. "However, we won't keep books on the subject of brotherly aid. All I can say, Darry, is that I am glad I chose this night to call on an artist who lives in dingy quarters half a mile beyond where I found you. And I am also glad that I did not accept his invitation to supper, or I should have come along too late to serve you." As soon as the machine had left them at the Embassy, Darrin sought out Mr. Lupton. "May I see Mr. Caine at once?" asked the young officer. "You have seen Gortchky, then?" "Yes, and I have found what I consider positive proof as to the plans of Gortchky's crew." "I think Mr. Caine can be seen," replied Lupton. Ensign Darrin was soon with the American Ambassador, who nodded to Lupton to leave the room. "Here, sir," began Darrin, "is a bit of paper that Gortchky dropped and which I picked up." Mr. Caine scanned the paper. "I do not see anything so very remarkable about it," he replied. Dave whispered a few words in his ear. "Is that true?" asked the Ambassador, displaying sudden agitation. "Yes, sir." "Then I believe you are right, Darrin," gasped the Ambassador, sinking back into his chair, his face paling slightly. "Oh the villains!" "Then you believe, sir, that I have really discovered the plot?" asked Dave, who looked only a whit less agitated. "If what you have just told me is true, then it must be that you have made a correct guess." "Will you send word by wireless to Admiral Timworth, then, sir?" "I dare not trust such news, even to the cipher, which the international gang thought they had filched, and which they did not get," replied Mr. Caine. "I believe that the wisest course will be for you to take the midnight train to Genoa." "Then I shall take this paper with me?" "Yes, Mr. Darrin, for the Admiral is far more capable than I of estimating it at its true worth. It is a matter for a naval man to comprehend and decide." The Ambassador did not neglect to provide the young ensign with documents, approved by the French Foreign Office, that would take them safely over the border into Italy on their return trip. _ |
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