Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

In the Saharan twilight these five made a last stand against a vigorous onset staged by the Arabs, who were still two or three hundi-ed strong. It was an onset which was directed against the east wall, and it was an onset that must have carried the Touaregs into the fort had they pressed home their advance. But when they were only a hundred yards from the stronghold they were seized by an unaccountable panic and veered on across the desert. There were but two of the garrison left to witness their flight. These two were John Geste and Markoff, and the Arabs had disappeared from view when the former laid aside his rifle wearily and turned to see the sergeant making for the body of a stricken legionnaire. The legionnaire in question was John's brother Beau, and Markoff had stooped to search the prostrate Englishman for the jewel which he believed the latter possessed, when John bounded in his direction like one galvanised. "Leave my brother alone!" he panted, thinking Markoff meant to serve Beau as he had served the others who had been laid low. The Russian straightened up and swung round. His face was the picture of avarice, and with a vicious gesture he raised his revolver. But John had snatched out a bavonet, and, lunging, he drove the blade deep into the sergeant's breast. Markoff went down, his ugly counten- ance distorted with pain, his eyes glazing as he fell, and he had breathed his last when John sank to his knees beside the figure of Beau. The latter was conscious, but it was clear he had been fatally wounded, and it was only by dint of a great effort that he managed to speak. "John," he faltered, "you'll find two letters—in the inside pocket of my tunic. I wrote them—in case anything should happen to me. One is for Aunt Patricia —and is private. The other is for Scotland Yard—and repeats the confession I made in the note I left at Brandon Abbas before I slipped out of England." "But you didn't steal the Blue Water!" John exclaimed passionately. "You only wrote that confession because you thought that either Digby or I was the culprit, and in your headstrong, chivalrous way you decided that as the eldest brother, it was up to you to shield the one who'd been a crazy young fool. "I didn't steal the Blue 'Water,' he added, "and I can't believe Dig stole it. Circumstances pointed to one or another of us being the guilty party, but none of the three of us could have acted so despicably. I'm convinced of that. Any- how, Dig and I weren't going to stay at ihome and let you take the blame. We guessed you'd join the Foreign Legion, for you'd always been keen on reading about it. So we followed you to France and enlisted, as you know.' His brother smiled a twisted smile. "I wasn't trying to shield you and Dig," he whispered. "I knew neither of you had taken the Blue Water. Listen, John, get that letter to Aunt Patricia. When she's read it, maybe she'll take you into her confidence—and then you'll— understand " His voice trailed off, and, closing his eyes, he passed away with that smile on his lips, and John was crouching over him when all at once a hail arose from some point away to the north-east of the lort. Rising, John Geste blundered to an embvaure in the wall, and, peering cautiously through the aperture, beheld a relief column of mounted legionnaires who had topped the crest of a steep dune. Thev had only just come within sight of Zinderneuf. but their approach had obviously been the cause of the Arabs' hurried retreat. And now the men of that column had halted as if puzzled by the .strange silence which reigned over the fort, and indeed it must have seemed odd to them that no rousing cheer was uttered October 14tli, 103!) BOY'S CINEMA by the figures discernible in the strong- hold's embrasures. The hail John had heard had been voii.ed by an officer at the head of the detachment, and John did not answer it. Realising that by remaining where he was he might find himself in a desperately awkward situation if it were learned that Markoff had died from the thrust of a French bayonet and not from the impact of an Ara'o bullet, he resolved to quit the fort via the west wall and take his chance in the desert; and he was about to make himself scarce when he observed a soldier detach himself from the column and ride forward alone. This solitary legionnaire had apparently volunteered to investigate Zinderneuf lest the Touaregs had laid some trap for the relieving force there, and suddenly John became aware that there was something familiar about the lone rider. A moment later he recognised the on- coming legionnaire as his brother Digby, a fine, upstanding youth of nineteen, and he waited until Digby had gained the fort and ascended its east wall by means of a rope and grappling irons with which the young bugler was equipped. Then, con- fronting him, he told him all that had occurred and announced his intention of effecting an escape. "In that case I'm going with you, John," Dig'oy said huskily. "We'll make our way over the desert together—in the hope of reaching British territory." John laid a restraining hand on his arm. and spoke to him in an earnest tone. "No, Dig," he protested. "There's no call for you to run the risks that I've got to face in a trek across the Sahara. Let me take my chance alone. If I get through, I'll be waiting for you in England when you've finished your service with the Legion." Deliberately his brother shook his head. There was a resolute expression on his features. "I'm going with you, John," he re- peated. "From now on we're sticking together, and nothing will ever separate us again—unless death comes to one or the other of us—as it's come to Beau." John bit his lip. He could see that Digby's mind was made up, and that no amount of argument would induce him to swerve from his decision. "All right, Dig," he murmured. "If that's how you feel, it's ' good-bye' to the Legion for both of us." They delayed only to kneel reverently at Beau's side and pay their last respects to their dead brother. Then John having obtained possession of the letters to which Beau had refen-ed, they hurried to the west wall and dropped to the sands on that side of the fort. Digby had left his horse in the shadow of Zinderneuf's east wall, but they picked up a couple of stray Arab ponies whose masters had perished during the siege, and, mounted on those ponies, John and Digby Geste galloped across the desert at the best pace the animals could attain. Weeks later a bronzed young man and a dignified woman of about forty-five might have been seen in the lounge of Brandon Abbas, famous as one of the stateliest homes in the West of England. The bronzed young man was John Geste, and the woman was Lady Patricia Brandon—a widow now, for her despised husband had died a month before. Quietly John Geste told of Beau's death at Zanderneuf—told, too, how Digby had met his end in the heart of the Sahara when he and John had fallen foul of a small party of hostile Arabs during their desperate journey across the mighty desert. Then the last of the three brothers produced the letter which Beau had asked him to deliver to their aunt. Opening that letter. Lady Patricia Brandon read it in silence, and when she Every Tuesday had finished reading it she handed it to the young man who stood before her. "You have the right to know what this letter contains," she said in a pent-up voice. John took the missive from her and ocnt his gaze on it. It was a commimi- cation that ran as follows: "My Dear Aimt Patricia,—When you get this I shall be dead, and when you read it I hope I shall be forgiven. For I did what I thought was best, and the course I took was one which I felt would repay you in some small measure for your wonderful kindness to me and my brothers. "Years ago you secretly sold the Blue Water to an Indian raaharajah—without Sir Hector's knowledge or permission. You'd already had a duplicate made—a duplicate which was a remarkably clever imitation and which would have deceived anyone but an expert. I might mention I know all this because although 1 had no intention of playing the part of an eaves- dropper, I happened to overhear a conversation you had with the Indian maharajah's agent. "You thought, of course, that whatever happened. Sir Hector would never want to sell the Blue Water sapphire that he prized so much, and I can understand how great a shock it must have been to you wnen he wrote home from abroad last year and said he was returning to England lor the purpose of disposing of the jewel at the best price obtainable. I know, too, that if you had been forced to admit to him that you had disposed of the Blue Water yourself he would have been an absolute brute to you. "So I stole the piece of worthless glass which had been substituted for the genuine sapphire, and which had fooled Su: Hector when he had gloated over it on his rare visits home. "I wanted to spare you the misery you would undoubtedly have had to suffer at the hands of Sir Hector, and my only regret is that those two chumps, John and Digby, thought I was trying to shield them and followed me into the Legion. "One thing more. Aunt Patricia. I never blamed you for the deception you practised in connection with the Blue Water. I know you only sold it for the benefit of the tenants Sir Hector was treating so shamefully, and I know the money you received for it was quietly spent in making conditions better for them. "And now, my dear aunt, I close this letter with tihe earnest prayer that you will yet find some happiness in the future, despite the shortcomings of my much- detested uncle. " You loving and admiring nephew, "Beau Geste." Slowly John folded the letter, and. look- ing sadly at his aunt, saw that her eyes were filled with tears. In another moment he was close beside her, and as he slipped a comforting arm about her she spoke in a voice that held a note of ineffable tenderness. "' Beau Geste,' " she murmured fondly. " In the language of the country for which he died, that name means ' gallant gesture,' doesn't it, John?" "Yes, Aunt Patricia," John answered. "He was well named, wasn't he? He was —well named." By permission of Paramount Pictures, Ltd., adapted from incidents in the film "Beau Geste, " with the following cast: Gary Cooper as Ray Milland as Robert Preston as Brian Donlevy as J. Carroll Nalsh as Albert Dekker as Harold Huber as Stanley Andrews as Harry Woods as Heather Thatcher as Beau Cicste John Geste Digby Geste Sergeant Markoff Rasinoff Schwartz Voisin Maris Renoir Lady Patricia Bran- don