i8 
LAND & WATER 
Ku\L'iiib(.'r 
1916 
house which he himself had left three-quarters of an hour 
before. Tlie girl let him do as he pleased. They all entered 
an apartment on the ground-floor and went into the th awing - 
room, where a bright lire of logs was burning. He switched 
on the electric light : 
" Sit down," he said. 
She dropped into a chair ; and the captain at once gave 
his orders : 
" You, Poulard, go and fetch a glass in the dining-room. 
And you. Kibrac, draw a jug of cold water in the kitchen. . ■ . 
Chatelain, you'll find a decanter of rum in the pantry. , . . 
' Or. stay, she doesn't like rum. . . . Then. . . . ." 
" Then," she said, smiling, " just a glass of water, please." 
Ifer cheeks, which were naturally pale, recovered a Uttle 
of their warmth. The blood flowedback to her lijis ; and the 
smile on her face was full of confidence. Her face, all charm 
and gentleness, had a pure outline, features almost too 
delicate, a fair complexion and 'the ingenuous expression of a 
wondering child that looks on life with eyes always wide open. 
And all this, which was dainty and exquisite, nevertheless at 
certain moments gave an impression of energy, due no doubt 
to her shining, dark eyes and to the hne of smooth, black hair 
that came down on either side from under the white cap in 
which her forehead was imprisoned. 
" Aha ! " cried the cajrtain, gaily, when she had drunk the 
water. " You're feeling better, 1 think, eh, Little Mother 
Coralic ? 
" Much better." 
" Capital. But that was a bad minute we went through 
just now ! What an adventure ! We shall have to talk it all 
over and get some light on it, sha'n't we ? Meanwhile, my 
lads, j)ay your respects to Little Mother Coralic. Eh, my fine 
fellows, who would have thought, when she was coddling you 
and i)utting your pillows for your fat pates to sink into, that 
one day we should be taking care of her and that the children 
would be coddling their little mother ? " 
They all jnessed round her, the one-armed and the one- 
legged, the crippled and the sick, all glad to see her. And 
she .shook hands with them affectionately : 
" Well, Hibrac, how's that leg of vours ? " 
" 1 don't feel it any longer. Little Mother Coralic." 
" And you, Vatinel ? That wound in your shoulder ? " 
" Not a sign of it. Little Mother Coralic." 
" And you, Poulard ? And you, Jorisse ? " 
Her emotion increased at seeing them again, the men whom 
she called her children. And Patrice Belval exclaimed : 
" Ah, Little Mother CoraHe, now you're crying ! Little 
mother, little mother, that's how you captured all our hearts. 
^\■hen we were trying our hardest not to call out, on our beds of 
])ain. we used to see your eyes filling with great tears. Little 
Mother Coralie was weeping over her children. Then wo 
clenched our teeth still firmer." 
" And I uswl to cry still more," she said, " just because you 
were afraid of hurting me." 
" And to-day you're at it again ? No, you are too soft- 
hearted. You love us. We love you. There's nothing to 
cry about in that. Come, Little Mother Coralie, a sniUe. . . 
And, I say, here's Ya-Bon coming ; and Ya-Bon always 
laughs." 
She rose suddenly : 
" Do you think he can have overtaken one of the two 
men ? " 
" Do I think so ? 1 told Ya-Bon to bring one back by the 
neck. He won't fail. I'm only afraid of one thing. . . ." 
They had gone towards the hall. The Senegalese was 
already on the steps. With his right hand, he was clutching 
the neck of a man, of a limp rag. rather, which he seemed to 
be carrying at arm's length, like a dancing-doll. 
" Drop him," said the captain. 
Ya-Bon loosened his fingers. The man fell on the flags in 
the hall. 
" That's what I feared," muttered the officer. " Ya- 
Bon has only his right hand ; but, when that hand holds 
any one by the throat, it's a miracle if it doesn't strangle him. 
The Bodies know somcthin-' about it." 
Ya-Bon was a sort of colossus, the colour of gleaming coal, 
with a woolly head and a few curly hairs on his chin, with 
;in empty sleeve fastened to his left shoulder and two medals 
pinned to his jacket. Ya-Bon had had one cheek, one side 
of his jaw, half his mouth, and the whole of his palate smashed 
bv a splinter of shell. The other half of that mouth was 
split to the ear in a laugh which seemed never to cease and 
which was all the more suq^rising because the wounded 
portion of the face, patched up as best it could be and covcretl 
with a grafted skin, remained impassive. 
Moreover, \'a-Bon had lost his power of speech. The most 
that he could do was to emit a sequence of indistinct grunts 
in which his nickname of ^'a-Bon was everlastingly repeated. 
He uttered it once more with a satisfied air, glancing by 
turns at his master and his victim, like a good sporting-dog 
stand ng over the bird which he has retrieved. 
'■ Good," said the officer. " But, next time, go to work 
more gently." 
He bent over the man, felt his heart and, on seeing that lie 
liad only fainted, asked the nurse: 
"Do you know him ? " 
" No," she said. 
" Are you sure ? Hav'c >'ou never seen that head any- 
where ? " 
It was a very big head, with black hair, plastered down 
with grease, and a thick licard. The man's clothes, which 
were of dark-blue serge and well-cut, showed him to be in 
easy circumstances. 
" Never . . . .• never," the girl declared. 
Captain Belval searched the man's pockets. They con- 
tained no papers. 
" \'ery well," he said, rising to his feet, " wc wUl wait tiU 
he wakes up and question him then. Ya-Bon, tie up his 
arms and legs and stay here, in the hall. The rest of you 
fellows, go back to the home : it's time you were indoors. 
I have my key. Say good-bve to Little Mother Coralic and 
trot ofl." 
And, when good-bye had been said, he pushed them outside, 
came back to the nurse, led her into the drawing-room and 
said : 
■' Now let's talk. Little Mother Coralie. First of all, 
before we try to explain things, listen to me. It won't take 
loiig." 
They were sitting before the merrily blading fire. Patrice 
Belval slipped a hassock undir Little Mother Coralie's feet, 
put out a light that seemed to worry her. When he felt 
iierfectly certain that she was quite comfortable, he 
began : 
" As you know. Little Mother Coralie, I left the hospital 
a week ago and am staying on the Boulevard ]Maillot, at 
Neuilly, in the home reserved for the convalescent patients 
of the hospital. I sleep there at night and have my wounds 
dressed in the morning. The rest of the lime I spend m loafing. 
I stroll about, lunch and dine where the mood takes me and 
go and call (m my friends. Well, this morning 1 was waiting 
lor one of them in a big cafe-restaurant .on the boulevard, 
when I overheard the end of a conversation. . . . But I 
nnist tell you that the place is divided into two by a partition 
standing about six feet high, with the customers of the cafe 
on one side and those of the restaurant on the other. I was 
all by myself in the restaurant ; and the two men, who had 
their backs turned to me and who in any case were out of 
sight, probably thought that there was no one there at all, 
for they were speaking rather louder than they need have 
done, considering the sentences which I overheard . . . and 
which I afterwards wrote down in my little nott-book." 
He took the note-book from his pocket and went on : 
" These sentences, which caught my attention for reasons 
which you will understand presently, were preceded by some 
others in which there was a reference to .sparks, to a shower 
of sparks that had already occurred twice before the war, a ' 
sort of night signal for the possible rejietition of which they 
proposed tp watch, so that they might act quickly as soon as 
It appeared. Docs none of this tell you anything ? " 
" No. Why ? " 
" You shall see. By the way, 1 forgot to tell you that the 
two were talking Enghsli, (luite correctly, but with an accent" 
which assured me that neither of them" was an l-^nglishman. 
Here is what they said, faithfully translated : ' To finish up. 
therefore,' said one. ' everything is decided. You and he will 
be at the appointed place at a little before seven this evening.' 
' We shall be there, colonel. We have engaged our taxi.' 
Good. Kemember that the little woman leaves her hospital 
at seven o'clock.' ' Have no fear. There can't be any mis- 
take, because she always goes the same wav, down the Rue 
Pierre-Charron.'- ' .\nd your whole plan is settled?' 'In 
every particular. The thing will happen in the square at the 
end of the Rue de Chaillot. liven granting that there may be 
people about, -they will have no time to rescue her, for we 
shall act too quickly.' ' Are you certain of your driver ? ' 
' I am certain that we shall pay him enough to secure his 
obedience. That's all we want.' ' Ca\)ital. I'll wait for 
you at the place you know of, in a motor-car. You'll hand 
the little woman over to me. L'rom that moment, we shall 
be masters of the situation.' ' .\nd you of the little woman, 
colonel, which isn't bad for you, for she's deucedly pretty.' 
' Deucedly, as you say. I've known her a long time by sight ; 
and, upon my word . . .' The two began to ' laugh 
coarsely and called for their bill. I at once got upandwent 
to the <h)or on the boulevard, lint only one of them came out 
by that door, a man with a big drooping moustache and a 
grey felt hat. The other had left by the door in the street 
round the cor.ner. There was only one taxi in the road. The 
man took it and I had to give up all hope of following him. 
