Читать книгу Fire Below - Cecil William Mercer - Страница 4

Table of Contents

The day was Monday, and on Wednesday we were to have met her ten miles our side of the frontier of Riechtenburg.

Dare not come. . . .

That we should be greatly concerned was natural enough. Marya Dresden was no coward, nor was she given to crying before she was hurt. Little wonder, then, that we found her message pregnant with serious news, and, what was worse, we had not a shadow of doubt that the trouble now besetting the Countess had sprung from her friendship with us, if not direct from her purpose to stay in our house. Such interference was monstrous, but, as I have said, Prince Paul was by nature ignoble and I can think of no practice to which, if it served his hatred, he would not have stooped.

We could not call upon Sully, for he was gone to Vichy to take the cure, and when we had posted to Meagre, our nearest town, and had telephoned to Vigil to be told that no reply could be had from the Countess’ house, we were alarmed in earnest for the well-being of our friend.

“We must telegraph,” said I. “She may have shut up the house.”

“I can’t believe that,” said Leonie.

“Neither can I. Never mind. We must send a wire. If we get no answer to-morrow I must go to Vigil to see what’s what.”

Leonie drew in her breath.

“Let me go, Richard,” she said. “After all, I’m still the Grand Duchess, and Paul would never dare to——”

“Not on your life,” said I.

“I agree,” said George. “Besides, we shan’t go in by the hard, high road. Yes, I’m going, of course. And Rowley is coming with us, while Bell sits tight at Littai and never lets you out of his sight.”

“I don’t like it a bit,” said Leonie, finger to lip.

“If we watch our step,” said George, “there’s not the slightest reason why Prince Paul or anyone else should know that we’re there. Besides, we haven’t wired yet, and we may very well get an answer to lay our fears.”

But though we telegraphed twice, no answer came: and at six o’clock the next evening I bade Bell turn out the Rolls.

I never remember setting out with so vague and loose an idea of what I was going to do, and though, for Leonie’s sake, we tried to evolve some plan, our endeavours came to nothing because of the manifold chances of what we might find amiss. We were, in so many words, going into the dark, and until we were in touch with the Countess, we could not so much as determine our line of retreat. For all that, we early decided that Rowley must stay with the Rolls upon Austrian soil and that, ere we went over the border like thieves in the night, we must choose some spot close to the frontier where they could lie hid: for so, in case of pursuit, we should have a present refuge which was better than any fort and would carry us out of danger at eighty-five miles an hour.

At this, Leonie besought me to take with us Bell, declaring that if I would do so, she would leave the lodge, which was lonely, and return to the farm: and after a little I consented, on condition that she took with her Jameson and one of the grooms and never went out unattended until we came back.

Now from where we stood to the frontier was a matter of less than four hours in a fast-going car, but since, because of the guards, we dared not enter the country except by stealth, it seemed likely that the rest of our journey would have to be made afoot. This meant a long delay, for Vigil lies twenty-five miles from the border of Riechtenburg, and, even if we should be able to arrange to be carried so far, to enter the city by day seemed out of reason, for we had been there but last summer and were generally known by sight.

I, therefore, reminded Leonie that, though I would send her news as soon as I could, if we were to exercise caution, our movements must be very slow, and I am glad to remember that she did not protest, but only smiled and nodded and slid an arm round my neck.

Then food for two or three days was put into the car and a suit-case with changes of linen and other such stuff, and at half past six we ran through the village of Littai to which my wife was to follow before night fell.

We had a map and a compass and all of us carried arms, and, though no word was spoken, I think we were all four thinking of other times when we had gone out in like manner and wondering what fortune we should meet with before we came back.

The evening was very fine, and the roads were clear, and by half past nine we made Bariche, a village some fifteen miles from the nearest frontier-post. There we took in petrol, and ten miles further on I brought the car to rest by the side of the road.

Now while I had driven, George had been studying the map, and at once he set out his conclusions, illustrating his points by the light of the dashboard lamp.

“We’re here, and there’s the frontier, running due north and south. Turn south, and we meet the river. Turn north, and we meet the hills. I’m no damned antelope, but from what I’ve seen of that river I don’t fancy a dip in the dark. I mean, too much excitement is bad for me. Very well. That reduces us to the mountains. Now that looks a likely place—I make it about twelve miles off. The road nearly touches the border and then curls back. If we could park the Rolls there . . . What’s more, there’s a bridle-path marked, running almost out of that bend clean over the hills.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“A bridle-path means a sentry—perhaps a post.”

“Exactly,” said George. “But we’ve got to be over those mountains by break of day, and unless we’ve some line to follow—well, I’d rather have a dart at the river. We may be drowned, but it’s only got a couple of banks.”

“The river’s hopeless,” said I. “It’s far too swift. But I’m afraid of that path.”

“So am I,” said George. “But I’m still more afraid of losing my way in the mountains and being shot by a sentry as soon as it’s light.”

“So be it,” said I, and, with that, I let in the clutch.

George was, of course, perfectly right.

To find our way across the mountains would have been easy by day; but by night we could never have done it, for, for lack of sight, we could not have chosen a line and should have spent half our time retracing our steps. All the same, I was not at all easy about the path, for this was no doubt a way that was favoured by smugglers and therefore more carefully guarded by night than by day.

Half an hour later we came to the spot George had chosen and the end of the bridle-path, to find it by no means private, for a farm was sunk in a hollow not sixty yards off, and though the house was silent, I heard the kick of some horse against the wood of his stall.

We went some three miles further, but found no kind of cover in which to bestow the car, so with a lot of trouble we turned her round, to see if we could do better upon the way we had come.

We had repassed the farm and had left it two miles behind when we came to a track on the left-hand side of the road. The track was rough and narrow and promised the poorest shelter, but in desperation I took it, to see where it led.

I had hopes it would lead to a quarry or into a wood or at least to some dip or hollow where Rowley could take his chance. But it led to none of these things. It led to the farm.

When I saw the familiar buildings, I could have cried out with rage, for the waste of time was shocking, and the thought of reversing in darkness for nearly a mile and a half was enough to break any man’s heart. Then I saw a way out of our plight, which, if we could only take it, would turn our loss into gain.

We were now at the back of the farm, the front of which was commanding the bridle-path. If the farmer would harbour the Rolls, no covert could be more convenient, for, if we returned in haste, we could enter the farm from the front and leave by the back and be well on the way to Littai before we were found to be gone.

At once I told George this notion, and five minutes later the farmer had been awakened and was listening to George’s words.

The tale he told does not matter, and indeed I did not hear him, for Bell and I kept out of sight: but I think he alleged that the car was not fit to proceed and desired to leave her and his chauffeur until he had done some business and had the time to return.

To this the farmer consented with a very good grace and started to get on some clothes before coming down. Whilst he was making this toilet, we thrust some food into our pockets and Bell made up a small bundle and put on his overalls. This, because any disguise was better than none, and since he could speak no German, he stood in more need of assistance than George or I.

Ten minutes later we took the bridle-path.

We had gone, I suppose, some three miles—and these, so severe was the gradient, might well have been six—when we heard the dull roar of water that falls in a hollow place. As we rounded a bend, this sound became gradually louder until it was very clear that we were approaching some bridge.

“The frontier for a monkey,” breathed George. “And now for the post.”

We went on gingerly.

Except by consent of the guards, I am very certain no smugglers use that path; and, indeed, I think we owed the absence of any patrol to the gulf which Nature had fixed in the midst of the way.

As we rounded the last of the bend, we saw the dim shape of a building, and when we had slunk very close, we made out the truth.

Before us lay a ravine, quite twenty-five feet across and God knows how deep. In this the water was tumbling with a sullen bellow of rage, as though resenting the prison which it had made for itself. Upon either side of the gulf stood a low, white lodge, each housing, no doubt, the opposing frontier-guards. And between the two lay a foot-bridge some six feet wide.

Now the bridge was well built of twin girders let into the rock, and though there was no hand-rail, a man might have made the passage without a thought. But the space between the girders was empty, and the floor of the bridge was gone.

I suppose this was made of loose boards which the guards laid down each morning and took up at night, and that when they were gone, the sentries took their rest, for no light burned in the dwellings and the Austrians’ door was shut. Be that as it may, the bridge was useless except to an acrobat, and the bare idea of attempting to cross on a girder made my hair rise upon my head.

After a little discussion, we decided to climb up stream.

This proved no easy matter, for, though it was wooded, the mountain rose very sheer, and we made the slowest progress for nearly an hour. Then we must have passed over some crest, for all of a sudden we found that the ground was falling and the roar of the torrent had sunk to a steady, crisp rush.

With every step, this change became more apparent, and when the wood gave way to a level stretch of meadow, I could have thrown up my hat.

Two minutes more and we stood upon the bank of the stream.

The night was starlit, and after the black of the forest we seemed to be able to see extremely well.

The torrent was something wider than it had been at the bridge, and its bed was littered with boulders great and small. Between these it thrust its way without much fuss, displaying none of the fury it showed below. Indeed, I was surprised at its patience, until I had found a stick to use as a sounding-rod.

So far from my touching bottom, the stick was whipped out of my hand, and when I had found another and had braced it against a stone, we found to our consternation a depth of nearly four feet.

To ford such a head of water was out of our power, and though by day we might have picked a way over by leaping from rock to rock, we dared not attempt by night so horrid an exercise.

I saw George glance at his watch and heard him draw in his breath. Then——

“There’s a light, sir,” said Bell. “Up stream.”

Before we could turn, however, the light was gone, and Bell at once divined it had been the flare of a match. As though to confirm his finding, the light reappeared and flickered for two or three moments before going out.

“There may be a bridge,” said I, and led the way up stream as fast as I could.

Before three minutes were gone we had crossed the little clearing and come again to the trees and, with the trees, to a darkness that hampered our steps, but, before I had taken six paces into the wood, I saw before me the glow of a cigarette.

At once I stopped and stood peering, for the cigarette seemed low down and I could not see the smoker, although I could smell the smoke.

Then something moved on the ground three paces away, and I saw that two men were grappled and were fighting like beasts, while the cigarette lay smoking a few feet away.

The heavy rustle of the water smothered what noise they made, and the seeming silence of the struggle lent it the air of the fights that are shown on the screen. Indeed, it was like to have ended as some of these do, for all of a sudden I saw the flash of a knife.

At once I sprang forward and seized the one that had drawn, to find he was uppermost and had his man by the throat.

Bell had a torch in his pocket, and I called for a light.

Both men had the look of gypsies, and the one I had seized was cross-eyed. This blemish was certainly against him, but no excellence of feature could have redeemed his looks. I have never seen evil so written in any man’s face: and he eyed me with a malignancy that made me tighten my grip. This, I confess, with repugnance, for I might have had hold of some beast, so long and so thick was the hair which covered his arm, like a close-fitting sleeve. He showed no sort of surprise, but only a snarling resentment of my interference with his plans, and he never so much as loosened his grip on the other’s throat.

“Let go,” I said sharply, “and drop that knife.”

For a moment we eyed one another. Then the man spat in my face.

I suppose he was blind with rage, for he must have known that I was powerful and that he was at my mercy if it pleased me to strike.

Be that as it may, I hit him on the point of the jaw with all my might and then stepped over his body to bathe my face.

When I got back, the other was sitting up and answering George’s questions humbly enough. He was twice the age of his assailant and though he still looked a fine fellow, was obviously past his prime.

“Smugglers,” said George shortly. “I can’t understand half he says, but it seems that he brought the money and Lord Chesterfield didn’t bring the goods. Sheer robbery with murder, of course. What’s much more to the point, you’ve killed the right man. This wallah comes out of Riechtenburg, and he’s perfectly ready an’ willing to lead us back.”

“I haven’t killed him,” I cried.

“No, sir,” said Bell, rising. “His heart’s all right.”

“More’s the pity,” said George. “He’d be greatly improved by death. Never mind. Chuck his knife in the water, and let’s get on.”

Two minutes later we were again under way.

It soon became clear that we were approaching a fall, and when we had covered a mile, we must have rounded some shoulder, for the noise became suddenly louder and the air began to grow chill. Five minutes later we saw how the water came down.

This was by one great leap from a cliff some fifty feet high, and even by night the sight was very handsome—a mighty sheaf of white foam against the black of the rock.

I am glad to think I had time to see its beauty, for the next moment George was shouting to make himself heard, and fall and cliff and thunder have made me a dreadful nightmare from that time on.

Our way lay under the fall.

I will not dwell upon our passage, which I think took a month from my life. Though I daresay there was no danger, the path was most narrow and ragged and drenched with spray, while the darkness and the monstrous concussion bade fair to dishevel the wits. When I was across I was shaking like any leaf, and it is still a mystery to me how any man heavy-laden can pass that way.

So we entered the country which we had sworn to avoid.

Our way was now much more simple, for while we could still hear the fall, we struck the bridle-path which we had left at the bridge, and, just as the sky was paling, we came out on a pleasant upland to see open country below us and far in the distance a tiny pinprick of light.

I knew this at once for the level-crossing at Vardar, because I had been by that way.

“What could be better?” said George. “You go through Vardar for Vigil. Now all we want is a road. I think we can stick to the roads till half past five. I mean, we shall go so much faster.”

Our guide brought us down to a road in ten minutes’ time and would, I am sure, have led us to Vigil itself, for, though he was a man of few words, he was plainly deeply grateful for what we had done. When we bade him good-bye, he uncovered and, pointing to heaven, said quietly that God would always save us, if He would only be gracious to hear his prayers and that if we were upon some venture, his wife would ‘make a novena’ for our success. Then he told us that his name was Ramon and that he was a smith by trade, with a forge in a village called Gola, some three miles off: “and there,” said he, “you will find me if ever you stand in need, for from now I am at your service by day as by night.”

We thanked him and bade him tell no one that we had met, and, with that, we shook hands and parted, full of goodwill, for honesty sat in his eyes and a child could have seen that he meant every word that he said.

We had now two hours before we must make ourselves scarce, and since, by the map, we were twenty-six miles from Vigil, we started along the road as hard as we could.

It was light ere we came to Vardar, and this made us think it was foolish to show ourselves in a village which might be awake, while to use a level-crossing whose keeper was about his business was to court the observation we wished to avoid. We, therefore, took to the fields and were lucky to attract no attention but that of a little girl who was herding some cows.

We had passed beyond Vardar and had come to the railway line when the murmur of an oncoming train suggested a means of progress of which we had never thought.

On all sides the world was stirring and in less than an hour now the round of village and country would have begun, and though, had we kept to by-roads, I am sure that we should have been safe, the importance of concealing our presence from those it might interest magnified every risk. Add to this that we were weary and footsore, for, though we were all very strong and ‘as hard as nails’, in the ordinary way we did but little walking, but spent our time in the saddle or on the front seat of a car.

When, therefore, I saw the metals which would lead us directly to Vigil, still more than twenty miles off, the idea of obtaining a lift leaped into my mind. Could we but board some freight train, to leave it again before it ran into the city, we could then withdraw to some wood and take our ease: this, with a quiet mind until it was dark, for so an hour after nightfall we could be at the Countess’ house, as ready as rest could make us for whatever should then befall.

When I made this proposal to George, he leaned against the rough fence and wiped the sweat from his face.

“It’s dazzling,” he said. “My feet weren’t made for walking: they’re not the right shape. I want to lie down and stay down for several hours. But not yet. I must have some more miles behind me before I rest. And that’s not the will to win: it’s arithmetic. I don’t know how far we’ve come and I don’t want to: but I know that the next stretch I do has got to be short. I can go on now—somehow. I suppose I’ve got into my stride. But this is the sort of effort I can’t repeat. Damn it, my legs’ll come off.”

I think he spoke for us all, for the thought of another forced march was scarce to be borne. But when I pursued my suggestion, he cut me short.

“All sorts and shapes go by train. Why don’t we go to a station and damned well take our tickets in the ordinary way?”

“Because,” said I, “because in this cursed country every station platform is a regular beat of the police.”

“So it is,” said George. “I’d forgotten. Well, show me a slow-going train, and I’ll do what I can. But I don’t want to get run over.”

I climbed the fence, made my way through some bushes and looked up and down the line.

A furlong ahead was a wood which swallowed the metals up; but I saw that the ground was rising, so that if there was there no cutting, a train which was bound for Vigil would be going uphill. Whether, even so, its pace would allow us to board it, I could not tell, but I had often watched freight trains that seemed to go very slow, and the wood would afford us cover until the moment arrived.

Ten minutes later we were sitting beneath its trees.

A quarter of an hour went by before we heard a train coming from east to west, but, before we could see it, we knew it for a passenger train. Indeed, it roared by as though it were going downhill, and George’s face was a study as he stared in its wake.

Presently he moistened his lips.

“Let’s be clear about this,” he said. “Perhaps the expression ‘run over’ ’s a little loose. What I meant was ‘I don’t want to be damaged’. Either by way of mutilation, or battery, or dragging. Trains are rough things.”

If I laughed, I agreed with him.

Thirty minutes later a very different rumble suggested the train we wished, and, when at last it appeared, we saw that it was a freight train in very truth.

At once we took up our positions, each standing behind some tree, but as it drew near we very soon saw it was hopeless to endeavour to get aboard.

Its engine was certainly toiling, but, though I cannot pretend to judge its speed, I doubt if a man could have boarded it from a platform, and only a fool would have tried from the permanent way.

We watched it pass in silence.

Then——

“There’s nothing for it,” said George. “We’d better get on. There’s the line to guide us, and there’s nothing the matter with this wood.”

We pushed on dismally.

We had gone, I suppose, half a mile, when we heard a man’s voice.

This came from the railway line and seemed to be very near, but a heavy growth of bushes was preventing our view. Very glad of this cover, we stopped, proposing to wait till our neighbours should go their way; but, though the man stopped speaking, nobody moved.

Cautiously I stole to where the bushes were thin, to see the guard’s van of the train and one man down by the metals and another leaning over the door.

As I looked, the first man turned and began to walk up a rough path towards the head of the train, and, after a little, the other opened his door and let himself out.

I watched his leisurely movements with my heart in my mouth.

Once down, he pushed back his cap and stared up the line: then with a muttered curse he began to trudge after his fellow by the side of the train.

At once I told George and Bell, who were waiting for me to move, and thirty seconds later we were across the metals and stealing up the permanent way.

Now when the train had passed, we had noticed a motor-car, shrouded, of course, by tarpaulins, on a truck by itself. So fast as the guard would allow us—for we dared not overtake him, in case he should hear our steps—we made for this truck, and, scrambling beneath the canvas, climbed into the car.

This was a coupé de ville, brand new, capacious and, to judge by its cushions, very well done.

Our luck had come in.

We let down the windows and waited.

After perhaps ten minutes we heard the men returning and almost at once the train began to move.

“Take the time,” said George. “For half an hour I guess we can put up our feet.”

I felt for a switch, found it and turned on a light.

Six o’clock.

“And very nice, too,” said George, leaning back in his seat. “This is the way Jorrocks travelled to Handley Cross.” He raised his voice. “Bell!”

“Sir,” said Bell from his place in the driver’s seat.

“There’s a paper stuck on to the windscreen. That’ll be the consignment note. See if it says who’s bought this very good car.”

I saw Bell peer at the paper and saw him start.

Then he looked round—with a ghost of a smile on his face.

The car was consigned to Prince Paul of Riechtenburg.

Now in boarding the train we had taken one obvious risk—the risk of being carried into Vigil, or at any rate further than we wished. But no man can ‘have it all ways’, and, after all, it was no good our going to Vigil if, when we reached the city, we could hardly stand up for fatigue. Still, I must confess that when forty minutes had passed, but the train showed no signs of stopping or even of slackening speed, I began to grow very uneasy and almost to wish myself back in the sheltering wood.

For such apprehension I had, I think, just cause.

Riechtenburg is ancient and modern as is no other country that I have ever seen. Immemorial habits and customs march with the mode. Abuses are not apparent, but it would be strange indeed if no tares sprouted in so rare a field of wheat. There survives one dangerous abuse. While law and order are honoured, the old back stairs which led from arrest to sentence have never been shut; and the stranger that is taken that way may give up hope.

Leonie, George and I had offended Prince Paul—lay under the man’s displeasure, for what it was worth. Beyond the borders of Riechtenburg, his displeasure was nothing worth: but in his own country, where he was the ‘Colonel-in-Chief’ of every Department of State—well, Madame Dresden was in trouble, and all the sin she had done was to stay our friend.

If we were to help the Countess, we must clearly avoid the condition of having to help ourselves. Once we were known to be in Vigil, we could no more save Madame Dresden than we could raise the dead. More. We should have our work cut out to save our own skins.

Now I do not seek to imply that every citizen of Vigil knew us by sight: but the police of the city knew us, and, as strangers are very rare there and we had no sort of disguise, our appearance was perfectly certain to be remarked. And once we had been noticed, official cognizance was only a matter of hours.

The freight yard of Vigil’s station was, therefore, almost the last place in which we should choose to alight, for, strangers apart, any unauthorized person was sure to be challenged at once.

If follows that when another ten minutes had hastened by, we were all three thoroughly alarmed, “for, by thunder,” said George, “we didn’t bargain for this. They’re sure to have this car off the moment we dock, and once we’re bolted, they’ll pull us down in an hour.”

By now we were out of the car and were looking under the canvas to see what we could. But none of us knew the railway, but only the road, and even as we were peering, the rising walls of a cutting began to obscure our view. We were waiting in some impatience for the grass-grown walls to subside, when the engine let out a screech and we rumbled into a tunnel which might have been the entrance to Hell itself, for, another train happening to pass, the noise was frightful and a volume of filthy smoke offended our eyes and throats.

Now the tunnel would have made such fine shelter that, noisy and foul as it was, we would thankfully have alighted before the train had emerged, but, though it promised to be endless, we seemed to be running downhill and our speed to be increasing with every yard. What was worse, I had now no doubt that we were fast descending to the level of Vigil itself and were actually threading the hills that keep the aged city to north and east. If that were so, we should presently issue from the tunnel clean into the station yards, for the latter lay under the hills north-east of the town.

And so we did.

As the train ran into daylight, the brakes were applied. The next moment we banged across points and lurched to the left. Then we heard shouts and whistling and the crunch of steps upon the ballast and the hissing of steam, and two minutes later the train was brought to a standstill in an atmosphere of excitement which showed there was something amiss.

Here let me say that if ever three men were unlucky I think it was we, for I afterwards learned that the driver of the train was in error in not slowing down before, that he should have passed through the tunnel at five miles an hour, that had he not had a clear run, we must have been smashed and that, as it was, he overran the point at which the train should have rested by more than a quarter of a mile.

Such negligence drew to the train the attention of every employee that heard or saw it arrive, and, to judge from the scrambling and hubbub, our passage into our siding was watched and attended by most of the station’s staff.

This reception was trying enough, but when I perceived we were running alongside a platform my heart sank into my boots, for so long as the train was not berthed, they could not discharge the car, but, once they could take her off, I was sure that, as George had said, they would do so without delay.

Something had to be done—and done at once.

I turned to Bell.

“The consignment note,” I said. “Get it off the windscreen as best you can.”

He was back in the car before I had George by the arm.

“Bluff,” said I. “We must bluff them. You and Bell and I have come down in charge of the car—by royal command. Engineer, tester and mechanic, specially sent. We supervise the off-loading and deliver to the palace ourselves. You must do the talking—you’re better than me. Take a high line.”

“It’s a chance in a million,” said George. “Give me the note.”

With his words the train stopped with a jerk and I turned to Bell.

“Come,” said I. “We’re under Mr. Hanbury’s orders and we’re going to off-load the car. Take notice of no one, and if anyone gets excited refer him to me.”

Then I took a deep breath, pulled aside the canvas and slid down on to the rails. . . .

We had the car uncovered before an official arrived, and before two minutes were past I think he was sorry he came.

George was magnificent.

He vouchsafed no explanation—there were the Royal Arms on the doors of the car, and I had the bonnet open and Bell had found a duster and was rubbing the silver plate. He did not so much as produce the consignment note. But he fell upon the man as a panther falls upon its prey.

He cursed the line and the driver and he cursed the pace we had come: he cursed the platform and the station and the tunnel through which we had passed: he cursed the absence of helpers and skates and ramps: and he shouted and stamped till the fellow, now thoroughly rattled, began to reflect the censure and to scold his astonished underlings into some show of life.

In that moment the trick was won.

Men fell over each other to fetch the ramps, and when no skates were forthcoming, no one dared say as much, but a superintendent was sent for to break the news. George fed upon the delay with a hideous zest, and when out of pity I said we could do without them, he turned upon me and rent me till the blood came into my face. When two superintendents arrived without any skates, he gave such an exhibition of insolent rage and scorn that, though I had feared their arrival, I think they would sooner have questioned the devil himself, and I have never seen the saying ‘Attack is the best method of defence’ so vividly justified.

The truck being long, we were able to manœuvre the car and, by exercising great care, to bring her on to the platform without any skates, but this delicate operation gave George such a scope for contumely, that by the time it was over both superintendents had gone and the helpers stood huddled together like frightened sheep.

When he called for petrol, his demand was frantically echoed a score of times, and four or five went running to fetch the fuel; and water was brought before he had thought to ask it, on the ground, no doubt, that prevention is better than cure.

The car was of German make and bore a good name, and though I had never used one, its engine seemed simple enough. Indeed, the latter started without any fuss, but I had to endure a volume of execration, because I had used the self-starter instead of taking the trouble to swing the crankshaft by hand.

We let her run for five minutes while George passed about the car, pointing out invisible scratches and breathing out dreadful threatenings against everybody concerned. Then he asked the whereabouts of the palace and took his seat at the wheel and ordering Bell and me to sit by his side, drove the car out of the freight yard and into the streets.

The temptation to leave the city and take to the countryside was very strong, for so we could have rested all day in some remote spot, yet have been in Vigil without effort as soon as night fell: but that would have laid us open to a charge of stealing the car, and would have made us the quarry of a hue and cry so shocking to contemplate, that after a hasty discussion we decided that we had no option but to drive to the palace at once.

We did not relish such a visit, but the day was young, and the palace was guarded by sentries and not by police, and once the car was safely within the forecourt, all that we had to do was to beat a retreat.

Indeed, what danger there was lay in the streets we must use, and I think we should have done better to leave the car at the station when once she was off the truck: but, as I have shown, we had had no time for reflection, and when one is using shock tactics it is easy enough to be carried away oneself.

“But we needn’t all go,” said George. “In fact it’s far better that I should appear alone. Where shall I drop you and Bell? And where shall we meet?”

This conclusion was plainly sound. Bell and I could do nothing, for George, who could speak like a German, must play the hand. The question was where we could shelter the livelong day.

I think our late misadventure must have disordered my wits, for not until then did I suddenly see the folly of wasting the hours which had fallen clean into our lap.

We had come to help Madame Dresden, and here we were at her gates a full day before our time.

“Go by the Lessing Strasse,” I said. “It’s sure to be empty now, and Bell and I can go over the garden wall.”

“Of course,” said George. “And with luck I should be with you in a quarter of an hour.”

Danger is a curious thing, and I have often proved that the ground which one seeks to avoid may be crossed in safety, while the quarter one has never suspected is the covert of Peril itself.

All the way we saw but one policeman, and he was busy discussing the size of some fruit: no notice was paid to our passing, and we met with no sort of check: the Lessing Strasse was empty except for a watering-cart; and Bell and I were within the Countess’ garden before George was out of the street.

I did not like his going to the palace, still less his going alone, but, recalling his success at the station, I felt that his wit could be trusted to bring him safe through. He would then have to walk half a mile by the riverside, but, since it was not yet eight, I could not believe that he would be so unlucky as to meet with someone that knew him in those ten minutes of time.

I, therefore, gave my attention to the back of the house, for though Madame Dresden might be gone, her servants knew me by sight and I was depending on finding some one of them there. Indeed, if the house was empty I did not know what we should do, for I knew no other source of which we could make inquiry with any hope of success.

The heavy shutters were closed and this had an ominous look, but since the weather was hot and the rooms faced south, I hoped very hard that the windows they hid were open and the shutters themselves but fastened against the heat of the day.

Desiring to learn the truth, I bade Bell stay under cover and crossed the lawn, for the garden was very private and not at all overlooked.

I had left the grass and the gravel surrounding the house and was halfway up the steps which led to the terrace, when, as though by magic, the shutters of the salon were parted, and a man stepped on to the terrace, duster in hand.

It was the Countess’ butler.

For a moment we stared at each other. Then——

“Good morning, Carol,” I said. “Where is Madame?”

“Madame is abed, sir.”

I thought very fast.

“Is the salon empty?” I said. “I’d like to write her a note, but I must not be seen.”

He found me paper and pencil and stood to the door.

I wrote as fast as I could.

Dear Marya,

Carol knows I am here, but no one else. Walk in the garden before breakfast—as soon as you can.

Richard Chandos.

As I sealed the envelope—

“Madame must have this at once, Carol.”

“Immediately, sir. I shall tell her maid that I found it beneath the front door.”

“That’s right.”

As I stepped on to the terrace, he left the room.

I was upon the edge of descending the steps when the clack of shutters thrown open came to my ears.

I shrank back instantly. I had put my faith in Carol, but I had no mind to put it in anyone else.

As I stood waiting, I heard more shutters opened and then the flick of a duster being emptied into the air.

The servants were about their business, and my retreat was cut off.

I stood back in the salon, chafing.

Then I heard a sudden rustle, and there was Marya Dresden beside me, with a dressing-gown over her nightdress and her small bare feet in slippers and fright in her eyes.

“What is it, Richard?” she breathed. “Why are you here? Don’t say Leonie——”

“She wanted to come,” said I. “But I couldn’t risk that. But you didn’t think we’d sit still and watch you drown?”

Marya stared and stared.

“‘Watch me drown’?” she repeated. “My dear, what on earth do you mean?”

I took out her telegram and gave it into her hand.

As she read it, a hand went up to her head. Then——

“I never sent this,” she said.