For a moment de Richleau thought of protesting; but he quickly realized that it would be useless. The two men, evidently under the impression that he was a thug who had killed a member of the police force, were scowling at him and would clearly have jumped at the least excuse to give him a beating-up.
As he took off his clothes, garment by garment, they went through them. He had already been relieved of his own automatic, and the one that had belonged to Veragua, before being put into the cell. Now they took his # police card, his wallet and his loose change, then returned his clothes and left him.
He re-dressed with a set face, now gravely alarmed by a new thought that had suddenly come to him. Could it be that Urgoiti had known all the time that the red-headed man was Ferrer, and be one of the police against whom Don Alfonso had warned him - a fanatical Catalan who was secretly doing his utmost to protect the anarchists? Could it possibly be that Urgoiti had twisted the situation to suit his own ends - that he meant to let Ferrer go, and to frame the man who had caught him for the murder of Veragua?
22
The Surprise of His Life
For a few moments de Richleau stood staring at the steel door of his cell. The thought that Urgoiti might be hand in glove with his enemies and that, if so, he had fallen into a trap, was an appalling one.
Then, with a shrug, he relaxed, convinced that he was letting his imagination run away with him. Urgoiti might be a self-opinionated and somewhat thick-headed official, but a man so high up in the service could hardly be a traitor. After all, he, de Richleau, had admitted to shooting Veragua, and now that the detective's death had been confirmed it was no more than normal procedure that he should be charged with it.
But why should he be charged as 'Chirikov' instead of as 'Gomd'? That could only mean that Urgoiti was accepting Ferrer's word rather than his. And it was Urgoiti who had selected Veragua to act as his constant companion during his investigation.
De Richleau sat down on the iron bed with which the cell was furnished. His thoughts were racing. He tried to persuade himself that everything would be all right in the morning. As he had said that he might not be back until very late Quiroga would not be waiting up for his return, but when he did not appear next day it was certain that the General would inquire of Urgpiti what had become of him. At the worst Urgoiti could only be keeping him out of the way until he had made a pretence of questioning Ferrer, then released him and given him a good start to get well clear of the city to a new hiding place. That was it. Then explanations would ensue. Urgoiti would make the most abject apologies; but Ferrer would already be beyond danger of recapture.
293
But Urgoiti was not going to get away with it. The Duke meant to see to that. Good tough old Quiroga, the scourge of the Barcelona anarchists, would support him. If need be he would go to the King. By the time de Richleau had done with him Urgoiti would have lost his job and his pension, and be extremely lucky if he did not have to serve a prison sentence into the bargain.
All the same, when the Duke lay down on the truckle bed and tried to get to sleep his mind continued to be harassed by so many unnerving possibilities that it refused to rest. Several times he tried to concentrate his thoughts on Gulia in her big warm bed and the joys they had experienced there, but, try as he would, he could not keep them on her; so during the long hours he did little more than doze, then start awake again with renewed anxiety at the extraordinary situation in which he found himself.
Morning brought nothing to allay his fears. On the contrary. At seven o'clock he was marched out to give himself a wash, and on returning to his cell a breakfast was dished out to him that looked so revolting that he decided not to eat it. For over an hour afterwards he sat gloomily on the edge of his bed, then a young Artillery Lieutenant was shown in to him.
Removing his kepi the young man introduced himself by the name of Navarez and announced that he had been nominated to act as 'Prisoner's Friend'.
De Richleau gave a start. As a soldier he knew well what the term implied. 'What!' he exclaimed. 'Does this mean that I am to be court-martialled?'
The young man nodded. 'Yes, of course. But we are lucky in that we shall not have long to wait this morning.'
'This morning!'
'Since the revolt a court-martial has been convened to sit at ten o'clock every morning. It administers summary justice to all political prisoners that have been brought in during the preceding twenty-four hours. But such cases have been much fewer during the past week, and we are the only one on today's list; so our case should be heard right away.'
De Richleau knew then, beyond all doubt, that Urgoiti did intend to frame him as Veragua's murderer. It was a terrifying thought. He stared aghast at the young officer who evidently disliked the job he had been given but had been made callous to it from having had to perform a similar function several times in the past month. He was going on with hurried unconcern:
'I understand that you are a Russian nihilist and that last night you killed a detective. If thbse are the facts I don't think there is much that I can do for you; but if you have any line of defence let me hear it and I'll put it to the Court.'
Thank you,' said the Duke. There is only one thing you can do for me. That is to go up to the Fortress at once and tell General Quiroga that. . .'
He got no further. Take a message from a prisoner to that old tiger,' interrupted the Lieutenant derisively. Ts it likely? He'd have my head off.'
'Very well then, let it be a written message that you can deliver without seeing him.'
'Prisoners awaiting trial are not allowed to send letters to anyone outside the jail.*
De Richleau drew in a sharp breath. Then I fear there is nothing that you can do for me. I prefer to defend myself.'
'That is not permitted. If all the rebels who have been before the Court during the past month had been allowed to talk their heads off the Court would never have got through. It would still be sitting next Christmas.'
'Do you mean,' asked the Duke with rising alarm, 'that I shall not be allowed to say a word in my own defence? That I must leave it to you to put the bare bones of anything I tell you before the Court, and that on that alone my life will hang?'
Navarez nodded. 'That's the usual procedure in these routine cases. And the Court doesn't take long to reach a verdict. If it does turn out that you didn't kill this 'tec you'll be a free man by about half past ten. If not. . . well.'
'Well what?'
For the first time the young man looked slightly uncomfortable. Fingering his small moustache, he muttered, 'You may as well know what to expect. These Courts are convened to administer summary justice. Establishing them was the only way to stop bombs being thrown into the better-class restaurants and officers walking in the streets being shot from windows. They have succeeded in that; but only because it is now known by everybody that any prisoner found guilty is given no second chance. In the yard behind the building in which the Court sits a firing squad is always kept in a state of readiness. If it's thumbs down you'll be taken out to it straight away.'
De Richleau had paled under his tan. He realized now that he was in desperate danger. Urgoiti had known the procedure and counted with well-founded confidence on events taking the course usual in such cases. It might be all over before Quiroga heard a word about it. Afterwards Urgoiti, with his tongue in his cheek, would bow to the storm and accept a reprimand. But he need not fear anything worse as he could plead a belief that it was Quiroga who had been deceived, and all he had done was to send up for trial a Russian nihilist who, to prevent himself being exposed in his true colours, had shot a detective.
'Well?' said Navarez. 'Time's getting on. If you have got a plea to make you'd better let me hear it.'