Читать книгу The Day, or The Passing of a Throne - Fred M. White - Страница 9

Table of Contents

It was futile to struggle, vain to regret. It was the old story over again, the story of Samson and Delilah in another form. Rosslyn cursed himself as he remembered the many little things he had told Vera Leroux from time to time, especially the information he had given her as to his wonderful new aeroplane. He was in the hands of unscrupulous Germans, who would not hesitate to destroy him if it suited their purpose. They would probably try and strike a bargain with him, and he waited with admirable patience to hear it.

"Now listen to me," Leroux said. "You have been trapped. There is no blame attached to you—a far wiser mind than yours would have failed to see the bait. And you have precipitated matters yourself. I had no idea that you were on the track till to-night, or I should have toasted my cheese in another fashion. Now it is necessary to approach you in a different way. Ah, things are not so bad as they seem. If you will give me your word of honour to say nothing of this discovery of yours you are free to depart. If you are willing to trust me and my friend here for seven days—"

Rosslyn laughed bitterly.

"Ah, precisely," Leroux smiled. "If I were in your place I should probably take the same view. It is too late to tell you the truth, besides you would not have believed me if I did. We want you, and more especially that wonderful biplane of yours—the marvellous machine that takes up no more room than a big sea chest, the aerial bird that rises from the ground like a swallow. Also the engine that makes no more noise than the drone of a bee. And we get our own way thus."

Leroux raised his hands, and the man called Ludwig came forward. He carried something that looked like a shining needle, the point of which he thrust in Rosslyn's arm. The latter drew a deep breath, there was a click in his throat, then he swayed gently forward and fell, to all appearance dead, at Leroux's feet. The latter laid him out on the floor tenderly enough, and proceeded to remove the handcuffs.

"There is no other way, Ludwig," he said, as he busied himself in stripping his unconscious prisoner. "We should never have convinced him, and time is precious. Here, hand me those bandages and sheets. This is where you come in."

It needed but a minute or two to transform Rosslyn into the presentiment of a man wounded to the point of death. His hands were bandaged across his chest. His head was enveloped in a cloth which seemed to be soaked with blood, a few deft touches of a paint brush, and his face assumed the whiteness of marble. Then the burly Ludwig took up the body as if it had been no more than a feather weight and carried it down to the street. The road was empty.

Immediately opposite the doorway stood a huge car flying the Red Cross flag. A little way further down the street was a light motor ambulance which appeared to be piled high with stretchers. Leroux gave a grunt of satisfaction when he saw it.

"Quick," he whispered hoarsely, "there's no time to be lost. You worked that business very cleverly, my friend. Apparently the forged instructions came off all right, and that is the biplane behind. Good. It's now half-past one, and it will not be light before seven. We must be in Yarmouth safely hidden in the house of our friend long before them. Now then."

The two cars slid away into the darkness, and through the streets of London without attracting attention or exciting suspicion. It would have been all the same if they had, for no preparation had been neglected. Leroux had his story pat to the last word, documentary evidence properly signed and vouched to confirm it. If he was stopped later on, then he was merely conveying a wounded soldier who had just had a dangerous operation performed upon him back to his own home in Norfolk. He knew perfectly well that it would be at least eight-and-forty hours before Rosslyn opened his eyes again, or even gave the faintest sign of life. At the same time he was piloting an ambulance as far as the hospital which had recently been established at King's Lynn. The whole delicately laid scheme planned out so carefully and nourished so skilfully for nearly three years was not going to break down now. With what patience Leroux had waited for his chance!

The two cars slid on hour after hour through that chill November night; there was no challenge, and no delay. Long before daybreak the cars passed under an archway into a stable yard, and there they lay till darkness fell again.

It was a few minutes past six when the cars touched the coast at a lonely spot some five miles north of Yarmouth. It was here that they approached the zone of actual danger. The sea lay some sixty feet below at the foot of a sheer cliff. There they pulled up listening intently till the silence was broken by what appeared to a poaching cat snarling over a squealing rabbit. Leroux drew a breath of relief.

"It's all right," he whispered. "Coast quite clear. Get the invalid out and start up the engine and tip the car into the sea. It's a pity, but we musn't take any risks.. . Good. Now the same with the other one.. . And that's all right."

With infinite care and some risk Rosslyn's unconscious body was lowered by ropes into a motor-boat at the foot of the cliff, and the packed aeroplane swiftly followed. The precious engine came last. Half the task was accomplished now, and Leroux resigned himself into the hands of the burly Ludwig, who was a past master in the art of driving any craft with motor engines. This was where he came in. He proceeded to rig up an ingenious combination of motor-boat and aeroplane, using Rosslyn's wonderful invention for this purpose, and working it therefore from the bows and stern at the same time. He made no mistake; it was evident that his calculation was working out to the fraction of an inch. He gave a grunt of satisfaction.

"Absolutely right," he muttered. "By this contrivance we can touch fifty an hour without the slightest danger. And the man has yet to be born who knows the course better than I. We, with any luck, should be in Wilhelmshaven by three o'clock, and Korner's launch will be on the look-out for us. Here's luck to us all."

Without the glimmer of a light or the shadow of hesitation, Ludwig took the wheel and steered for the open sea. He seemed to have the eyes of a cat and a perfect confidence; indeed, he made no idle boast when he spoke of his knowledge, and he knew, too, that it was a thousand to one against meeting anything more dangerous than a fishing-smack or a tramp steamer. Hour after hour the silent machine worked like a thing of life, a bow wave swirled on either side of the little boat, and yet on the smooth sea hardly a drop of water was shipped. The two men sat there motionless and silent, alert and watchful for any threatened danger. From time to time they could catch the glimmer of lights in the distance, but nothing came within hailing distance, and presently Ludwig's keen eyes could make out on the horizon what appeared to be a bank of clouds, but which knew to be the coast of Germany. Then the boat slowed down, the aeroplane engine was taken down, and the whole packed away once more in the semblance of a big pile of stretchers. For the first time Ludwig showed a light thrice in rapid succession, and cut off his engine.

It was about an hour before a sea bird cried overhead apparently, and then out of the velvety darkness a steam launch appeared. A guttural voice challenged the motor boat cautiously.

"It is all right," Ludwig said. "We have the body of his Imperial Highness on board. No, he is not dead yet. Here, give me a hand."

The thing was done. The motor-boat was at the bottom of the sea, and in a room in the citadel Ludwig and Leroux sat talking to Herr von Korner, commanding the garrison. And on a truckle bed lay the body of Rosslyn, still lost to consciousness.

"He will wake and make history yet," Leroux smiled.