Fire Below (3 page)

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.

It 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 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 manoeuvre 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.