_ PART IV CHAPTER VII. THE REFUGEE
It was by no means characteristic of Jake to linger on a quest which had already proved fruitless but he was a man who possessed acquaintances in almost all parts of the world, and Paris was no exception. For the rest of the day after leaving Saltash he was philosophically occupied in seeking out old friends. Eventually he dined at a restaurant and betook himself to the station to catch the night train to Calais. It was all one to Jake whether he travelled by night or by day, so wholly accustomed was he to adapt himself to circumstances. Maud was wont to say with a smile that the luxuries of decent living were utterly thrown away upon him. He was a man who scarcely noticed physical discomfort. He could sleep under practically any conditions.
Walking solidly down the platform, carrying his own baggage, his thoughts were completely astray from his surroundings. They had reverted to the memory of the girlish figure he had seen that morning seated on a table, swinging one leg in studied nonchalance while every line was instinct with defiance. Yes, she had defied him, but deep in her heart she had feared--how she had feared!--that Saltash would fail to hold her against him. Again, a deep compassion came over Jake, stirring the very depths of him. Poor little girl, flung to and fro as flotsam in the cruel surf of life's breakers! He had done his best to deliver her, but Fate had been against him. Fate had ordained that she should be the victim of this man's caprice, the slave of impulses which might or might not be her destruction. It was as if he watched her trying to walk on a quicksand. And he was powerless to help her. Saltash had defeated him, and he had no insight into his motives. Unstable, baffling, irresponsible as a monkey that swings from tree to tree, he had snatched his prize, and even Jake, who knew him better than most, could only speculate as to whether he would carry it high above disaster or tire and idly fling it away. Some vagrant sense of honour seemed to have actuated him so far, but never yet had he known such a motive to last for long. The man's face was beyond him, too fantastic for comprehension. He recognized that he was capable of greatness, but very few were the occasions on which he had achieved it. If the motive power were lacking in this instance, Toby's chances were indeed small.
He found an empty carriage and threw his belongings on to a seat. The train was not a favourite one, and there would be no crowd. He had some minutes to wait, and he lighted his pipe and began to pace the platform unencumbered. A few travellers straggling by eyed him with some interest. He was not a man to be passed unnoticed. The massive, thick-set shoulders had a bull-dog strength that must have marked him in any crowd. His height was unremarkable, but there was power in every dominant line of him. He had the free carriage of one accustomed to the wide places of the earth.
He took small note of his fellow-travellers, being engrossed in his own thoughts. He wondered how Maud would regard the situation, and half wished she had been with him to deal with it. For Maud possessed undoubted influence over Saltash. He reflected that she was probably the only person in the world who did.
He had strolled almost to the barrier and was in the act of turning back when something--some impulse for which he could never afterwards account--induced him to pause and take stock of the passengers passing through. The train was almost due to start, and there was some slight confusion and a quickening of feet on the platform. He realized that he ought to be going back to his own carriage, but something stayed him. He stood still, his keen eyes searching the hastening figures.
And so standing, in a moment his attention was focussed upon a girl in a blue cloak who came towards him at a run evidently intent upon catching the train. She passed him swiftly without seeing him, almost brushed against him. And behind her came a dark man with black moustache and imperial, following her closely with an air of proprietorship.
Jake wheeled in his tracks, for a second amazed out of all composure. But an instant later he was in pursuit. He had had but a fleeting glimpse of her face, and the blue cloak was quite unfamiliar to him; but there was no mistaking the boyish freedom of her gait, the athletic swing of her as she turned and leaped into a compartment that her companion opened for her.
The black-browed Italian was in the act of following when Jake arrived. The realization of another hand upon the door was the first intimation that reached him of the Englishman's presence. He turned and looked into a pair of red-brown eyes that regarded him with the utmost steadiness as a quiet voice made slightly drawling explanation.
"This lady is a friend of mine," said Jake Bolton. "I should like a word with her."
The Italian looked murderous for a moment, but he gave ground almost in spite of himself. Perhaps the calm insistence of the other man's bearing warned him at the outset of the futility of attempting any other course of action; Jake was actually in the carriage before he could jerk out a word of protest.
"_Sapristi!_ You go too far!" he blustered then. But Jake was already confronting the girl who had started up at his coming, and stood facing him white and shaken. He spoke, still quite quietly, even gently, but in the tone that no delinquent ever heard unmoved.
"Say," he said, "are you playing the game?"
She put up a hand to her throat. His sudden coming had unnerved her, and she had no words. But her quivering face and tragic eyes were more than sufficient answer for Jake. He had dealt with sudden emergencies before, and he treated this one with characteristic decision.
"You've no business here," he said, "and you know it. If you can't stick to the man you've married, come home with me to Maud!"
She made a sharp gesture toward him, as if on the verge of falling, and as sharply recovered herself. "Oh, I wish--how I wish I could!" she breathed.
Jake's hand, perfectly steady, full of sustaining strength, closed with authority upon her arm. "That's settled then," he said. "Come now!"
But at this point the Italian burst furiously in upon them with a flood of unintelligible language that made all further speech impossible.
Jake glanced momentarily over his shoulder as if disturbed by the buzzing of some insect, then with unruffled composure turned back to the girl. His eyes looked straight into hers for perhaps ten seconds, then in the same purposeful fashion he set her free and deliberately turned upon the man who raged behind him.
As he did so, there came a shouting and banging of doors along the platform, and the train began to move. Jake's massive shoulders braced themselves. Without words he seized the raving Italian in a grip there was no resisting, swept him, as a sudden gale sweeps a leaf, across the compartment, sent him with a neat twist buzzing forth upon the platform, and very calmly shut the door and came back.
Then there came a wild shriek of laughter from Toby, and she doubled up in her corner with hysterical mirth, gasping and gasping for breath, till he sat squarely down beside her and pulled her into the circle of his arm.
"Easy, my girl! Easy!" he said. "We're not going to have an exhibition at this stage. You keep a stiff upper lip till you feel better!"
But the stiff upper lip was rather painfully lacking on that occasion. She very soon ceased to laugh, but for a long time thereafter she lay sobbing and shuddering like a little terrified animal against his breast while the train rushed on through the night.
He was very gentle with her. Jake's stock of patience was practically limitless, and he and Toby had always had a certain comradeship between them. But when she grew calmer at last he began to talk in the quiet, direct fashion habitual to him.
"Say now! You've had a bit of a facer over this. But you needn't be frightened. You're safe enough from that damned Italian anyway. And you'll find me a better refuge than he is--if that's what you're wanting."
She shivered and pressed closer. "You--don't know--what you're in for," she whispered piteously.
"That so?" said Jake, unmoved. "Well, maybe you'd like to enlighten me."
But Toby shook her head with a sob. "I couldn't! I just couldn't, Jake. Do you mind?"
Jake considered the point with slightly drawn brows. "I guess there's no hurry," he decided at length. "We'll get home first anyway. That's the main point. You won't be sorry to get back to Maud, I take it?"
She answered him with a swift and passionate fervour that spoke more clearly than any words of the anguish of her soul. "Oh, Jake, I wish I'd died--I wish I'd died--before I left her!"
Jake's brows contracted more decidedly, but he said nothing further on the subject. Only after a moment or two he patted her shoulder reassuringly. "I'll take care of you," he said. "You go to sleep!" _