Читать книгу Fire Below - Cecil William Mercer - Страница 5

Table of Contents

Madame Dresden’s words were so confounding and had unmasked so abruptly such a flood of sinister light that it took me a moment or two to focus the new situation and generally marshal my wits.

“You never sent this?” I repeated.

She shook her head.

“Did you send any wire?”

She nodded, twisting her hands.

“On Monday. I said Expect me Wednesday as arranged.”

“That’s right,” I said slowly. “And that telegram was taken, but this was sent. I must say Prince Paul is well served.”

Madame Dresden had me by the arm.

“It was sent to bring you,” she breathed. “He——”

“It was sent to bring us both, Marya. It was sent to bring Leonie and me. Thank God I had the sense to spoil that.”

“But it’s brought you, Richard. It’s brought you into his power.” She clapped her hands to her face. “Oh, my God, why on earth did I send that wire? Everyone knows he’s rabid at Leonie’s loss. He won’t have her Regiment at the palace, and——”

“You can’t blame yourself,” said I. “If one can’t trust the Post Office—well. . . . If I were you, Marya, I should leave Vigil for good. And Riechtenburg. I mean, the fellow’s not safe.”

“I know,” she said. “I never see him now, but I hear a good deal. It doesn’t affect the country—Sully sees to that. He’s really afraid of Sully——”

“Who is away just now.”

Marya caught her breath.

“You must go,” she cried. “You must go. With Sully out of the country, and Grieg——”

“Grieg?” I cried sharply. “What of Grieg?”

The man was our implacable enemy—had nearly been the death of George Hanbury and would have killed me.

“Three days after Sully was gone, the Prince took Grieg back. Not into the Army: he’s been given some job in the police.”

There was a little silence. Then——

“You’re right,” said I. “We must go.”

“‘We’?” says she. “I thought——”

“George Hanbury is with me. And Bell.”

“But how can you go, Richard?”

“As we came,” said I. “By night. Till then we must lie up somewhere, and——”

“Here, of course,” cried the Countess. “And then I can drive you——”

“Not on your life,” said I. “You’re deep enough in. I take it you’re ready to go this afternoon.”

“My big baggage has gone,” she said.

“Then to-day you must leave for Salzburg, and leave by train. We’ll come and get you there as soon as we can.”

“I can’t go till I know you’re safe.”

“You must,” said I. “Don’t you see you must keep to what you said in your wire? If you don’t, they’ll know in an instant that we’ve been in touch with you.”

“How can they know that you haven’t telephoned?”

“We did,” said I. “And were told there was no reply. And we sent you two wires.”

The Countess stifled a cry.

“It shows the lengths,” I continued, “our friends are prepared to go. Happily they don’t know we’re here. And if you don’t alter your plans, there’s no reason why they should. I assume they don’t know that you were to travel by road.”

“The servants know, Richard. I have told the chauffeur that he is to take me to Bariche and then return.”

I bit my lip.

“Then you must go by road. You mustn’t alter one jot of the arrangements you’ve made. Once you’re out of the country, that’s different. You must take in petrol at Bariche and drive straight on. Don’t go to the lodge—stop at Littai. Leonie’s gone to the farm.”

“But you and George,” cried the Countess. “I can’t leave you here. I mean, I’m in no danger, but you . . .”

“You certainly are,” said I. “And you’ll go in up to the neck, if they can establish liaison between you and us. Can you trust your servants, Marya? I mean, you’re most certainly watched.”

“I trust Carol,” she said, “and my maid.”

“What of your gardeners?”

“I have only one, and he is gone to some flower-show and will not be here to-day.”

“Then we will stay in the garden until you are up. Can you have the shutters shut? Because then I can cross the lawn.”

“At once,” said she. “You promise you will wait till I come?”

“I promise,” said I. “And don’t worry. We’ll give them a run for their money—but nothing else.”

“Please God,” says she softly.

Then she smiled her old, charming smile, slipped through the salon, and stood with her ear to the door. For a moment she waited, listening. Then she waved a slim hand and disappeared.

Two minutes later I heard the shutters closed.

I found Bell where I had left him under the trees.

Now George was not yet due, for, though what had passed since we parted has taken some time to tell, I could hardly expect him till five minutes more had gone by. But what I had learned from the Countess had made me very uneasy on his account, and when twenty minutes had passed, but he had not appeared, I was ready to swear that he had been laid by the heels.

Then there was a sudden scramble, and he came over the wall.

When he had heard me out, he told me his tale.

“I drove the car into the forecourt, parked her bung in the middle, stuck the note back on the windscreen and then got out. Then I strolled to the guard-room and walked inside. When I told the sergeant, he said that it wasn’t his business and that I must speak to the porter at the head of some entrance steps. Well, that didn’t suit me at all, so I picked up the telephone and asked to speak to the mews. The sergeant began to bristle, but I said that I’d travelled all night to deliver that car and that any sort of obstruction I should report to the Prince. That fixed him, and though he looked pretty surly, he let me be. I don’t know who spoke from the mews, but I said that the car was in the forecourt and advised them to come round and get her and wash her face. Then I stalked out of the guard-room and out of the palace gates. Very childish, you know, but my respiration was better the moment I got outside.

“Well, the riverside wasn’t crowded. I only met six people and a couple of vans. Nor was the Lessing Strasse. Not crowded. But it wasn’t empty, my son. Two fellows were standing talking at Marya’s door. One was a red-headed footman, and the other—well, he had a broom and barrow and should have been sweeping the street. I couldn’t get over the wall while they were there, so I casually crossed the Strasse and walked straight on. I meant to stroll round the block and then see if they’d gone. But I got an idea and went further. . . . The Lessing Strasse is the only street that’s been watered. If you remember, we saw the watering-cart. More. It’s also the cleanest street of the five I took the trouble to try. The others aren’t foul, but there’s not a loose leaf in this. And the wallah with the broom is still sweeping. When I last saw him he was brushing the trunks of the trees.”

“Observation and collusion,” said I.

“That’s right,” said George. “We’re obviously expected. And I’ll lay you a bank to a biscuit that Marya won’t be permitted to leave the country to-day.”

“Why not?” said I.

“Because she’s the decoy. Once she’s gone, there’s nothing to bring us. So we haven’t lost our labour. They damned well meant to keep her until we came. They may let her go if they get us, but I guess they want Leonie, too.”

“You’re not very cheerful,” said I.

“I don’t feel very cheerful,” said George. “Ever since you said ‘Grieg’, I’ve had that sinking feeling you read of in books. I can bear the police—with an effort: provided he stands well back, I can even stomach Prince Paul: but Grieg as Chief Constable makes my blood run cold. Never mind. Let’s clean the outside of the platter. What’s the matter with that tap?”

There was a tap in the bushes to serve the gardener’s needs, and, thanks to the gear Bell had carried, we were able to make a rough toilet which did us a world of good.

Then we ate some food and began to discuss the position, which, perhaps because the flesh had been served, proved to be less depressing than it had seemed. Indeed, comparing it with that which we had expected to find, we counted ourselves well off, for we were in touch with the Countess, and though she was under surveillance, she was under no sort of arrest. Provided, therefore, that our presence was not suspected, we had, all four, a good chance of leaving the country that night, for she had a car and we knew the way to go, and though some women would have jibbed at passing beneath the fall, Marya Dresden’s courage was of another sort.

Now she had told her chauffeur that we should meet her at Bariche at three o’clock. At two o’clock then, or soon after, she must drive out of Vigil and take the Austrian road. If George was right, she would be stopped at Elsa, the principal frontier-post. Once stopped, it was all-important that she should waste time—for leave before dark we could not—yet give no cause for suspicion by what she did. She must, therefore, protest and argue and endeavour to telephone, and, after that, she must drive to another post and seek to go by. When it was dusk, she could return to Vigil, as though disheartened by her failures to pass the guards, and then we could all leave together and drive for the bridle-path.

We were going over this plan and debating its weaker points, when we saw my lady coming with a posy of flowers she had picked.

She was very good to look at, and the plain black dress she was wearing suited her very well. Her fine short hair was golden, and her skin like that of a child, and when we rose out of the bushes I shall always remember how pretty a picture she made.

She stood very still, with her delicate lips parted and the bright flowers caught up to her breast, and her head half-turned to the house, as though she were fearful that one of the servants would come. The trees were thick with foliage, but little shafts of sunshine that had found their way past the leaves were striking her slim figure and playing with the silk of her stockings and the lights in her beautiful hair.

George stepped to where she was standing and put her hand up to his lips.

“It’s as well we came,” he said quietly. “I may be wrong, but I don’t think Pharaoh is going to let Israel go. Your house is watched, Marya.”

“That’s because they expect you,” she said.

“No doubt,” said George. “But until they’ve seen us roll up, they won’t let you go. And I don’t like your red-haired footman. He may be all right, but half an hour ago he was having a word with the police.”

Marya caught her breath. Then——

“That’s the chauffeur,” she said. “He’s the only one with red hair.”

George and I looked at each other.

Our precious plan was crumbling. We dared not trust the Countess to a man in the enemy’s pay.

“Bell must drive her,” said I. “It’s the only way.”

“And you?” said Marya, quietly.

When we told her what we proposed, she shook her head.

“I will not go without you,” she said. “I am in no danger—on that we are all agreed.”

“You’re in very grave danger,” said I. “You are harbouring misdemeanants, for that’s what they’ll make us out.”

“The car is closed,” said the Countess. “If Bell is to drive, you two can sit inside and you will not be seen.”

“At what time is it ordered?” said George.

“At half past one.”

“It’s out of the question,” said I. “Do as we say, and——”

“One moment,” said George. “If she doesn’t use her own chauffeur, there’ll be the devil to pay. The chauffeur will report it and the man in the street will report it, and they’ll telephone to Elsa and tell them to see who’s driving and what it means.”

“Then they mustn’t go to Elsa,” said I. “They’ll have to lie up in the country until it’s dark.”

George shook his head.

“When they don’t fetch up at Elsa, the hunt will be up.”

This was true. The Countess must play out her part. She had only to take one step which was not consistent with an effort to get to Bariche to be suspected at once.

Staring before me, I could not think what to do. If only we could put on the clock . . .

“There is Carol,” said Marya, suddenly.

She made her way to the lawn, and the butler came towards her across the turf.

For some moments they spoke together. Then he returned to the house, and she strolled up to a border and added some blooms to her posy before she came back. At last she strayed to the bushes behind which we stood.

“They have telephoned from the palace, to say that his Royal Highness will give himself the pleasure of calling upon me at tea time this afternoon.”

“The devil he will,” said George. “What does that mean?”

Marya shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s one way of stopping my going. Because I am in mourning, I cannot be commanded to Court, but that he should pay me a visit is natural enough. Of course, I can make no excuse.”

“That’s right,” said I. “You can’t refuse to receive him, and, rather than stop you at Elsa, he’s chosen this way.”

“Prince Charming as ever,” said George and sucked in his breath. “Afraid to declare himself, he uses his damned precedence to cramp his hostess’ style. Ask us to meet him, Marya. And then watch him toy with his shrimps.”

“Hush,” said I, laughing. “He’s playing clean into our hands. All she’s got to do now is to cancel the car and send a wire to Littai saying ‘Expect me to-morrow instead of to-day’. Then she entertains his lordship, and we all clear out together as soon as it’s dark.”

“And till then?” said Madame Dresden. “You must have food and——”

“We have food with us,” said I. “Whatever you do, don’t try to bring any out. That would give us away in an instant. Go and forget all about us, till after the sweep has gone.”

“Promise me you will stay here,” she said. “I could not bear to think that you were not within my gates.”

We gave her our word, partly because she would have it and partly because we knew not where else to go.

“That’s right,” she said quietly.

The next moment she was gone.

The day did not pass so slowly, for we were all very tired, and two of us slept at a time while the third kept watch. It follows that when it struck four we had each had some five hours’ sleep, and, though we were sick of tap-water and would have sold our birthrights to be able to smoke, we felt refreshed and heartened and ready to ‘force the game’.

We had, I think, good reason to be content. Our presence was unsuspected, and we had been granted the respite we so much desired. When it was dark, we had but to turn out the car, and we should be five miles off before its departure was reported by the spy in the street: and, before it was gathered that we were not going to Elsa, we should be over the border and nearing the Rolls. The thing was child’s play.

Such is the bliss of ignorance. Could we have seen the cards outrageous Fortune was about to draw from her sleeve, our faith would have turned to consternation and there would have been no health in us.

To this day I have not learned at what time the Prince arrived, but I know it was nearly five when I saw him walk on to the terrace and down the steps.

Marya Dresden was behind him, with a hand to her mouth. And by his side was a wolf-hound with its eyes on its master’s face.

As I gazed, the man peered about him. Then he looked down at the dog and nodded his head . . .

Now, had the dog made for the bushes, we must have been discovered before we had time to think, but, though it sprang forward, it first dived into a border which it began to search.

“The trees,” breathed George. “Isn’t there one we can try?”

The trees were well-grown and stately, but, though I stand over six feet, the lowest branch I could see was far out of my reach. More. What branches there were were not splayed, like those of an oak, but rose with the trunks, so that only by reaching some fork could a man get any lodgment for hand or foot.

I laid hold of the trunk of the tree beneath which I stood.

“Up on my shoulders,” I said, addressing Bell.

George hoisted him up in a twinkling, and almost before I had felt it his weight was gone.

“Next,” said I. “That’s the style.”

But George did not move. And when I looked round, there was the wolf-hound standing, three paces away.

The dog was young and nervous, but he had an inkling of what he was meant to do, for though he did not give tongue, he let out a growl at my movement and laid back his ears.

“Still as death,” breathed George. “It’s our only chance.”

I heard the Prince raise his voice.

“What is it, Aster?” he cried.

There was no mistaking the nervous suspicion of his tone. He had brought the dog, in case we were in the garden, to find us out.

As the dog bayed in answer, something sprawled through the air from above my head, landed among the bushes and fled for the lawn. At the critical moment Bell had dislodged a cat.

With a whimper of excitement, the dog was gone in a flash . . .

I had George up in an instant, but when he leaned down to help me, I could not reach his hand.

I whipped to another tree whose branches were not so high, but the cat, which had doubled, ran up the trunk as I got there, and I found the dog leaping beside me and barking as though possessed.

Before I could turn, I heard footsteps and Marya’s voice.

“No, if you please, sir—I beg you. I do not want the cat killed.”

“Rot,” said his Royal Highness. “I hate the brutes. Good dog, Aster. Wait till I find a stone.”

I slipped behind a tree-trunk and hoped for the best.

“Sir, I beseech you,” cried the Countess. “This is my garden, and I cannot permit even you, sir, to use it so.”

The Prince took no notice at all, and an instant later he was before the tree, panting, and I flat against it, behind.

“Where is she?” he cried to the wolf-hound. “Where’s the —— gone?”

Then he side-stepped and saw me, and started back with an oath.

At once I stepped forward.

“Sir,” said I, “I don’t think you heard Madame Dresden. She wishes the cat let alone.”

The man was white as a sheet.

“I knew you were here,” he said thickly. He struck at the leaping dog and pointed to me. “Seize him,” he cried. “Seize him.”

The dog, perplexed and bewildered, slunk to my feet. When I put down a hand, he licked me and wagged his tail.

The Prince was trembling with rage.

“This is treason,” he said. “If you touch me——”

“Don’t be a fool,” I said shortly. “You know why I’m here. To take Madame Dresden to Littai.”

“Then why didn’t you come openly?”

“How d’you know I didn’t?” I said.

His Royal Highness stamped his foot.

“Don’t talk to me,” he raved, and added a filthy oath. “You’ve the damned insolence to come here——”

“You brought me,” said I, “by a lie. You suppressed Madame Dresden’s wire and sent another instead. Your service is so putrid that you didn’t even know I’d arrived, but you knew I would come—if not to-day, to-morrow, provided only that you kept Madame Dresden here. So you did her the dishonour of inviting yourself to tea.”

This blunt indictment shook him, as well it might, and when I had done, he was biting his nails like fury, for lack, I suppose, of words.

There was a moment’s silence. Then he broke out.

I will not set down his outburst, which, for abuse and incoherence, would have disgraced a groom that was in his cups, but he offered no sort of denial to what I had said.

When he had done, I spoke.

“I tell you I have come to take Madame Dresden to Littai. Will you give orders that we are to be suffered to pass? Now—on the telephone, to Elsa.”

“‘Suffered to pass’? We don’t deal like that with traitors. We——”

My temper was getting frayed, and I cut the man short.

“This talk of traitors and treason is so much trash. I’m not a subject of yours.”

“No, but she is,” he cried, pointing to Madame Dresden. “She’s my subject. And I find you here in her garden, when I visit her unattended and——”

Something moved behind him, and he swung round to see George standing, with fire in his eyes.

“Do you charge that lady with treason?” said George, quietly. “Because if you do, I’ll, give you the best of reasons for charging me with assault.”

The Prince recoiled, as though he had seen a ghost.

“Steady, George,” said I. “What’s the good? He’ll take it back now and sign a warrant to-night.”

“Go on,” said George, sharply. “Do you charge her with treason, or no?”

His Royal Highness muttered ‘No’.

“Then beg her pardon,” said George. “Turn round and beg her pardon for daring to make a suggestion which you knew to be false.”

For a moment the man stood uncertain. The spirit was plainly unwilling, but the flesh was weak.

Then he turned to the Countess and bowed.

“I—I apologise,” he said thickly, speaking between his teeth.

White-faced, but very calm, Madame Dresden inclined her head.

“Lip-service,” said George. “And here’s danger. What do we do?”

As if in answer, the Prince made as though to go by.

“Not yet,” said George shortly. He slid a hand into his pocket. “Stand where you are.”

“By God,” said the Prince hoarsely, and went very grey.

“Neither move, nor cry out,” said George coolly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Bill, I asked you a question. What do we do?”

“We go,” said I. “In five minutes, with any luck.”

With that, I went to the Countess and spoke in an undertone.

“There’s no help for it,” I said. “Send Carol to summon his chauffeur and, if he has one with him, the footman as well. Send them down here. Say he’s hurt his foot or something, and he wants them to carry him out. Then yourself get ready to go. Hat and coat and just your things for the night. The instant you’re ready come to the terrace steps.”

“And he?”

“We must take his car. He and his men must be held here until we go.”

“I am desperately afraid, Richard. Is there no other way?”

“I can see none,” said I. “In the moment he found us here, the fat was burnt. If we cannot get some sort of start, we’re all of us done.”

“Very well,” said she, and hastened towards the house.

Now the last thing we wanted was trouble, that is to say, resistance, however slight. To be sure we were all three armed, but while a pistol is always an argument, it loses its force when a man is afraid to fire.

That the Prince would give no trouble, I knew very well, for the man was an arrant coward and would have yielded an empire rather than risk his skin; but though I had little doubt that we could hold up his men, I feared that if they saw his distress, the instinct of bounden duty would compel them to put up a fight.

In vain I looked round for some lodgment, where he could stand at our mercy, yet out of sight.

As I turned to call Bell from his perch, I thought of the tree . . .

I know his Royal Highness demurred, but, if I ever listened, I cannot recall what he said. We were pressed for time and I fear we were none too gentle, but once George and I had hoisted him up the trunk, he saw the wisdom of taking Bell’s outstretched hand.

An instant later he was lodged in a mighty fork, some twelve feet above the ground, and though with a little discretion he could have scrambled down, I think that he had no stomach for that sort of exercise, for he never moved a muscle, but clung to a branch with his face clapped against the bark, as though in peril of being washed off by some wave, declaring that he was slipping and that we should have his blood upon our heads.

As Bell slithered down to the ground——

“I advise you,” said George, looking up, “to make no noise.”

With his words, the two servants appeared and, Carol directing them, came clattering down the steps and running across the lawn.

“Their coats and hats,” I breathed. “We must take his car.”

“Good,” said George. “You and Bell get out of sight and leave it to me.”

When the men were close to the bushes, he cried out, “This way,” and once they were under cover, he stepped from behind a tree-trunk and held them up.

Their surprise was ludicrous, and they looked from the pistol to each other as though they were dreaming some dream.

“Put up your hands,” said George.

They did so dazedly.

“Now whether I hurt you,” said George, “will depend upon you. But I want your coats. Bell, take them off. And their hats.”

To strip them took but an instant.

“Now their boots,” said George. “Cut the laces. They mustn’t be able to run.”

In less than two minutes Bell had their boots in his hands.

“And now turn round,” said George, “and stand with your face to the wall. March.”

As the men obeyed, I saw a slight figure appear at the head of the steps.

“And now don’t move,” said George. “I’m going to stand here and watch you, and fire at the first that moves. I mean that, mark you. I’m not going to speak again.”

By now Bell and I were wearing their hats and coats, and I took the dog by the collar and gave the sign to withdraw.

We did so in silence, only pausing to hide the boots in a clump of stocks, and when we were all in the salon, I closed and bolted the shutters and shut the windows behind.

“Where’s the telephone?” said George. “We must cut the wire.”

“In the hall,” said the Countess, and ran before . . .

As Bell took her dressing-case——

“I don’t like to leave Carol,” she said. “You see, he’s involved.”

“Right,” said I. “Let him put on my hat and coat. And follow in ten seconds, please. I’m going to start the car.”

One minute later the Countess and George and Carol were sitting back in the car we had used that morning, Bell and the dog were beside me, and I was driving all out for the Austrian road.

Our going was none too private. I saw no man that I could have sworn was a spy, yet half a dozen that might have been watching the house, but we met with no sort of obstruction, and if we aroused suspicion, I never saw it declared. I would never have believed it so simple to steal a royal car, but I think that those that were there had not noticed the Arms on the doors and, our livery being plain blue, were not expecting the presence which we had so hurriedly left. When we came to the busier streets, our fortune took on another still more convenient shape, for such police as saw the car coming made haste to clear the way, and the zeal they showed was so active and the compliments they paid were so grand that I could have burst with laughter, while Bell, whose reserve was prodigious, was shaking with mirth.

When we were clear of the city, George leaned out of a window and spoke in my ear.

“Are you going for Elsa?”

“No,” said I. “I dare not. I believe we’ve an excellent chance, but supposing we fail . . .”

“Right,” said George. “Where then?”

“I’m damned if I know,” said I. “How long before it’s dark?”

“Nearly three hours,” said George. “It’s not yet a quarter past six.”

“Get the map off Carol,” said I. “It’s in my coat. We must dodge across country to Vardar and find some place to lie up.”

I was eager to leave the main road and knew we should find a by-road some five miles on that would take us over the railway and into the hills. I, therefore, wasted no time, and the car being very willing and, in view of its heavy body, unusually swift, we had climbed a steep hill and were approaching the by-road before ten minutes were past.

Now, though I slowed up for the turning, I was not expecting traffic upon such a road, and, anxious not to lose time, I certainly cut my corner more fine than I should. And this was very nearly the end of us all, for there was another car coming and taking, as luck would have it, more than its share of the way.

Thanks to our excellent brakes, a smash was avoided with two or three inches to spare, and, from having come to a standstill, the cars were slowly beginning to draw abreast, when a man leaned out of a window to shake his fist in my face.

I shall never forget that moment or the bitterness which it held, for when a poor wretch ‘hath nothing’, it is very hard to surrender ‘even that which he hath’. In that instant our half hour’s start, so hardly won, sank to a few poor moments and what disguise we had was changed to a startling announcement of what we had done.

The man at the window and I had met before.

That scowl, that square jaw, those small eyes—I had reason to remember those features to the day of my death. For they were Grieg’s features—the features of the man who had tried his best to kill me and now had ‘some job in the police.’

His scowl slid into a stare, and I heard him cry out. And that was all, for I was gone as fast as my gears would let me and had pushed the car up to sixty before thirty seconds had passed.

I spoke to Bell.

“Can you see him?”

“Oh no, sir. The last I saw he was turning. We must have a good minute’s start.”

‘A good minute.’ . . .

“Tell Mr. Hanbury to guide me. He’s got the map.”

As I spoke, George put out his head.

“Take the first to your right,” he said. “And then the first to your left. And keep your foot right down. We’re leaving a trail of dust about three miles long, and unless we can leave him standing it’s simply a paper-chase.”

Now, dust or no. I was very certain that we had the faster car. Provided, therefore, that we met with no serious check, I judged we should shake off pursuit in nine or ten miles. If then we could only vanish within reach of the bridle-path, we still had a chance of escaping that very night.

I was less afraid of a check than of losing our way, for we were now over the railway and at this time of year the flocks were upon the hills; but the country was unfamiliar and very blind, and the roads seemed devoid of signposts of any sort. Though the map was true, George was now forced to read it at lightning speed, and to decide in an instant which was the way we sought, and though he was careful never to hold me up, but to give me directions as coolly as though we were riding to hounds, I knew as well as he did that, except he knew the country, no man born of woman could guide a car going so fast.

We flicked through a nameless village and over a hunchback bridge; we were checked by a yoke of oxen passing from gate to gate, each second seeming a minute until the road was clear; for a mile and a half we flung up a twisting lane, so girt and narrow that had we met but a hand-cart we could not have passed; we dropped down into a valley, sped by green water-meadows and switched to the right; we sang up a serpentine hill and into a range of beechwoods that ran for a lady’s mile; and we swung to the left at cross roads where—hardship of hardships—a signpost had been blown down.

Of such was that nightmare drive, and when, after thirty minutes, we came to a sudden thicket with a track leading into its heart, I was as ready as George was to, so to speak, go to ground.

Indeed, before he had spoken, I had set my foot on the brake, for if we had come as we wished, we could not be far from the frontier and we might go another ten miles before we found shelter like this.

One minute later we were deep in the wood.

At once I stopped the engine, and all of us sat very still, but all the sounds we could hear were those of the countryside, the twitter of the birds about us and the splash of a neighbouring rill and somewhere, a long way off, the lowing of cows.

“Blind leading the blind,” said George, quietly. “We’ve beaten Grieg, but I’ve no idea where we are.”

The daylight we had so much deplored was now the best friend we had, for unless we had found our bearings before night fell, we could not hope to be out of the country by dawn.

We, therefore, sent back Bell to destroy any traces there might be of our entrance into the wood, while the rest of us left the car to follow the track afoot. This soon gave into a meadow which sloped to an idle stream, but on every side rose woodland and we might have stood in some courtyard, for all the way we could see.

We saw no sign of habitation or even of husbandry, and, as soon as Bell had come up, we made our way through the meadow and over the stream. This was happily shallow, and George carried Marya over without a word.

Strangely enough it was our crossing of this water that first brought home to me the truth that we were fugitives, and I still remember the shock of that apprehension and the curious, hunted feeling that gripped my heart.

By our treatment of the sovereign we stood guilty of a high misdemeanor, and while two hours ago only some trumped up charge could have been made against us—if, indeed, we were to have been dealt with by any competent court—we had now unmasked against us the heaviest artillery of the law of the land, and if we were taken, nothing on earth could save us from some most miserable fate. The thought that the Countess would share our punishment was insupportable; for though we were all guiltless, and though to this day I cannot see what choice we had but to hold up his Royal Highness and take his car, Marya Dresden had shrunk from such a trespass and had only abetted our action against her will.

For an instant, looking upon her slight figure, I felt the cold breath of panic.

For her sake only we must make good our escape. Failure was not to be thought of. By some means, before dawn came, we must stand upon Austrian soil.

It was now past seven o’clock, and the sun was low.

It was therefore arranged that the Countess, with Bell and Carol, should stay in a little dell which ran down to the stream, while George and I set out to find some landmark which we could recognize. Failing this, we must question some peasant, to learn our way, but we hoped to be able to find it without such help, for fear of leaving traces which Grieg who would soon be behind us would be glad to pick up.

We did not like splitting our party, yet felt it most important that the Countess should save her strength; besides, we had not yet determined to abandon the car, for if we should find that we were miles out of our reckoning, we might have no choice but again to take to the roads.

As fast as we could, we climbed to the top of the woods, to discover our view obstructed on every side; and when we had plunged to a valley and had struggled, panting, to the crest of another ridge, there was nothing but woodland before us which two miles ahead swelled into a range of hills. There were mountain and glade and forest and the flash of a stream, but never a road or so much as a curl of smoke, or even cattle straying to argue a neighbouring farm.

“No good,” said George shortly. “If we go any further we’ll probably lose ourselves. Besides, time’s getting on. We must go back and try the track.”

By the time we were back in the dell, it was nearly eight o’clock, and the sun was down.

Now, the track running roughly east—that is, away from Vigil and towards the frontier we sought—it seemed best that all should take it, for, come what might, we should not be going directly out of our way, and since we had lost near an hour, we dared not make use of the car for which every village by now would be on the look-out.

So Bell and I put off our borrowed plumes, and the former gave Carol his overalls to cover his butler’s dress.

A moment later our anxious march had begun.

Here, I should say that, while George and I had been gone, the dog had strayed into the shadows and had not come back. This was as well. We had only taken him with us to save the poor brute from the vengeance his raging master would have been certain to take, and since there was no name upon his collar, we hoped he would soon be attached to some happier home.

Half an hour went by before we sighted a farm, and the rest of us lay in the bracken, while George went on with Carol to learn the truth. When they came back, George had the map in his hand, but we could not see to read it, and Bell had to bring out his torch.

The farm was the home-farm of some Baron Sabre’s estate, upon which, of course, we had been wandering ever since we left the car. As near as we could make it, the bridle-path we were seeking lay twelve miles off. And that was as the crow flies.

There was a dreadful silence.

Then——

“What’s twelve miles?” said Marya. “Come on. We’re wasting time.”

I will not set out our progress, for though I shall never forget it, fleeing on foot by night is a business which anyone can picture, and one mile differs but little from that which has gone before; but we very soon decided that we must take to the roads, for, after a spell across country, the Countess for all her spirit began to flag. Besides, it was easier so to keep our way. After eight dragging miles we fell in with a country cart of which the driver was, happily, drunk as a lord. We, therefore, bundled him into the back of his gig, and Carol drove the Countess, while George and Bell and I took it in turns to ride and to shamble behind.

On the farther side of Vardar we left the cart, and, taking the road we had trodden the morning before, hastened along in silence towards our goal.

The time was now two o’clock, and the bridle-path was less than a mile away. I will swear we had been seen by no man, and though two cars had passed us, they had both gone by at high speed and had not seemed to be searching the countryside. If Marya could but continue, our race was as good as won.

From the mouth of the bridle-path to the waterfall was by no means difficult going, but very steep, and I judged that this lap would take us an hour and a half. That meant that day would have broken before we had reached the Rolls, but, once we were over the border, we did not care, for time would be of no moment, and if it seemed best to be in the woods till dusk—well, what was a few hours’ hunger to a few years’ lying in jail?

Indeed, we were all exultant, for the strain of finding our way was overpast, and the knowledge that the two hours of darkness that still remained were more than enough to see us out of the country made us a cordial which was rarer than any wine.

Speaking for myself, my weariness seemed to have left me, and the spring came back into my steps, and as I turned to look back at the light of the level-crossing on which we had gazed near twenty-four hours before, I saw the humour of our venture and found it rather amusing to have ‘singed the King of Spain’s beard.’

Then Bell, who was leading, came back to say that ahead were lights which were not those of a dwelling, yet did not move.

The slightest reconnaissance was sufficient to teach us the truth.

The lights were those of two tenders, belonging to Riechtenburg troops. They were standing not twenty feet from the mouth of the bridle-path. This was picketed. I could see the movement of soldiers about a fire. And when I crept closer, I heard a sergeant reporting how he had placed his men.

“In addition to that, sir,” he concluded, “there are the visiting patrols. I will take my oath that no one can pass our line.”

“Very good,” said his officer. “And, damn it, mighty quick work. How long is it since we got here?”

“Just twenty-five minutes, sir,” was the proud reply.