Fire Below (8 page)

Before twenty minutes were past, our plans were made.

I made them, and George approved them. What Marya meant to him, I had not guessed. But now there was no mistaking the frantic look in his eyes.

I think we both shrank from using the bridle-path. That way was too slow and was now most likely suspected as one which lawbreakers took. Besides, we could not take it except by night, and that would mean wasting time, for darkness was three hours off. What was more, that path would bring us into the danger zone. If we were to come to Vigil – and that, of course, was our aim – we must not attempt to traverse the region through which we had fled. Now Riechtenburg is only a little country, some half the size of Ireland, or thereabouts. By using the Rolls, therefore, in a very few hours we could reach the western frontier without leaving Austrian soil. As I have said, that border would be easy to cross, and since it was the furthest from Littai, it was not likely that, if we were still to be sought for, we should be sought for there. That it lay far from Vigil could not be helped. At least, we were sure we could cross it, while of the southern border we knew nothing at all.

I have said we were bound for Vigil. Our one idea was to get into touch with the Countess and so with Grieg. Now that she had struck some bargain, the fellow was likely to allow her to go to her house. The bargain, whatever it was, must depend on the Countess’ health, and this had been put in peril by what she had undergone. And so he would send her home. The Prince might rave about treason, but Grieg would not care for that. The man knew too much. If he wished to preserve the Countess, the Countess would be preserved.

Here I may say that, so far as appearance was concerned, we were much more fit for our venture than we had been five days before. Our linen was foul, we had not shaved for four days, and our heavy work with the horses had gone far to ruin our clothes. I do not pretend that we could have borne inspection, but it was perfectly clear that we could pass in a crowd.

The first thing, then, to be done was to reach the Rolls. To this end we hired a car and were driven up to the farm.

Rowley’s relief to see us was overwhelming. Between fear for us and inaction, the poor man was at his wit’s end. Three nights running he had gone up the bridle-path and had actually tracked us to the side of the rushing stream, only to return more troubled than he had set out and more than ever uncertain what he should do. He had had no razor and stood as unkempt as we, for, to pass the time, he had been tending swine and setting to rights a byre which was very foul.

His state decided me to take him with us and to send Bell back to Littai, to give Leonie our news. This, when we had been brought to the river we meant to cross, for events had shown that to keep a car in waiting was an unprofitable precaution and that though, as luck would have it, we now were glad of the Rolls, this was a chance in a thousand which would not occur again.

When I saw Rowley so moved, the concern I had felt for Leonie’s peace of mind rose into a wave of apprehension which would not be stilled. If her spirit was high, my wife was of Riechtenburg and so knew far better than Rowley the danger in which we should stand if ever the Prince came to know that we were within his gates. The five full days of silence must have passed very slowly at Littai and the shocking fear that, unable to bear such suspense, she had herself started to find us kept laying hold of my heart. I would, indeed, have given the world to see her, but for me to visit Littai would have meant a delay of eight hours, and, since any waste of time was not to be thought of, I sought to console myself by insisting that Bell would be with his mistress before another day broke.

When we left the farm, it was not yet eight o’clock, and, the way being easy to find, we went very fast, first of all driving due south and then very nearly due west and skirting the Riechtenburg frontier all the way.

We had covered some ninety miles, when I, who was keeping the map, gave George some wrong direction, and, since it was now very dark, a quarter of an hour went by before we discovered my mistake. This we did by running into some suburbs much too substantial to be ignored by the map, yet not marked upon the road which we had intended to take. What was worse, when George had slowed down, I could not perceive my mistake, for, to judge by the map, there was no town for thirty miles round, save only one called Sallust, and that stood in Riechtenburg.

It seemed dreadfully clear that we were miles out in our reckoning, and that at a time when we had not a moment to lose.

Bitterly reproaching myself, I called to a passing soldier and asked him the name of the place. He said at once that it was Sallust.

‘Sallust?’ I cried. ‘But Sallust is in Riechtenburg.’

‘Ay,’ said the man, ‘the old town. But this is the new. They are all one really, but the river divides them in two. If you want to go in’ – he pointed – ‘that is the way to the river, and so to the bridge. The Customs are there.’

With that, he was gone, and George and I studied the map. This gave no sign of any such state of affairs, but it showed that Sallust stood forty miles from Vigil, while the point for which we had been making lay sixty-five.

‘This is the place,’ said George. ‘With a dual population restrictions are bound to be slack.’

As he spoke, he let in the clutch…

He took the Rolls down to the river and berthed her under some limes. Then we alighted and strolled along the bridge.

This was busy. Maybe because it was Sunday, all sorts and conditions were crossing, and nearly everyone was going to Riechtenburg. In the midst of the bridge a movable bar or turnpike prevented all wheeled traffic and forced the people afoot to go by in single file. Here the rule of the road was strictly observed, and whichever way a man passed he kept the bar on his left. Those going to Riechtenburg went without let or hindrance, but those coming out were inspected by three of that country’s police. Leaning on the bar were four sentries, engaged in talk and glancing now and again at such as approached the police.

All this we could see very well without being seen, for on either parapet, directly in line with the bar, was a huge wrought-iron lantern, dispensing electric light.

I cannot pretend that I liked it, but this seemed to be our chance. For all the attention paid them, those that were going our way might have been leaving the gates of a football ground, and, indeed, they gave the impression of going home after some entertainment from which they had been lately dismissed. If this were so and we were indeed to join them, it was clearly unwise to delay, for any moment their number would begin to diminish and this would increase such risk as we were to run. Without more ado, I therefore, gave Bell his instructions and bade him get back to the car.

We watched his retreating figure, and when the Rolls had stolen into the shadows, we turned to the bridge.

By one consent we parted, and casually mingled with such as were going our way…

As I was leaving the road, I saw George nearing the bar in the midst of the bridge, and though I could not see Rowley, I knew that he was between us, for I had watched him go on.

It was well we had wasted no time, for already those crossing were fewer than when we had first arrived, but, the passage by the bar being narrow, the press there was still thick enough to offer a fair protection to a man that stuck close to the wall.

Now as I came up to the bar, I found myself next to a peasant who had drunk more than his fill. He was not reeling, but he was very unsteady, and he cursed and muttered as though he was sick of life. He was bearing upon his shoulder a basket of good-looking figs, which threatened every moment to leave their perch, and I could not help thinking that if they came safe to market, their porter would be lucky indeed. I think the press annoyed him, for he was in that condition which needs more than ordinary room, and, when he stumbled against me, he cursed me loudly as though the fault had been mine.

This conduct attracted so much notice that I could have broken his neck, but, since I could not withdraw, there was nothing to be done but go forward and hope for the best.

We were full in the light of the lamps when he stumbled and cursed me again.

‘Order, there. Order,’ cried a sentry – and brought the sweat out on my face.

But worse was to come.

As I made to pass by the turnpike, the drunkard thrust for the gap. Then he struck my shoulder with his basket and sent its burden flying all over the flags.

I suppose it was natural that he should hold me to blame.

Had he not seized me, I could have gone on my way: but his outcry was such that the people ahead turned back to see what the matter might be and before I could shake him off a ring had been formed.

Afraid that my speech would betray me, I let the man rave. Then I shrugged my shoulders and began to pick up the fruit.

As I straightened my back—

‘Whence do you come?’ said a voice.

Two of the police were looking me up and down.

‘From Switzerland,’ I replied. ‘I am making a walking tour.’

‘Your passport, please,’ said one, and put out his hand.

‘I’m afraid I’ve lost it,’ said I. ‘I am going to the consul at Vigil as soon as I can.’

‘Without a passport we cannot allow you to pass.’ He turned to his fellow. ‘It cannot be one of them. He is going the opposite way.’

The other shrugged his shoulders.

‘He answers the description,’ he said. ‘You say you are walking. Where did you sleep last night?’

He could not have asked a worse question. I had no idea of the country which, had I come from the west, I must have passed through.

‘I slept at a farm,’ I said. ‘I do not know the name of the place.’

‘What was the last town you passed?’

Frantically I cudgelled my brains. I had read some names on the map, but, because they did not concern us, they had not stayed in my mind.

‘I cannot remember.’

There was a moment’s silence. Then—

‘He must come to the station,’ said the one that had spoken last.

‘Yes,’ said the other softly, with the queerest look in his eyes, which were fast on my coat.

The next instant he fell upon me, shouting some words of
patois
which I could not understand.

To struggle was hopeless, and so I stood perfectly still. Then a hand went into my pocket and brought my pistol out.

Now as is sometimes the way, the blow having fallen, I instantly felt more at ease and was able to think more clearly and measure what chances I had.

The discovery of my pistol plainly convinced my captors that I was one of the culprits whose arrest was so earnestly desired, for they could not hide their excitement and they held on to each of my arms as though I had mastered the trick of slipping out of my skin. I, therefore, took care to continue to stand very still, and, after arranging with the sentries to bear their fellow a hand, they turned me about, and we started towards the old town.

I cannot blame them for fearing that I should try to escape, for I fully intended to do so before they could lodge me in jail. Unless I was much mistaken, the streets would be poorly lit, and while I am as strong as most men, George and Rowley would certainly shadow my progress and the instant I made my effort would come to my aid.

For the moment I could do nothing because of the throng, but I said in my heart that, once we had passed off the bridge, the crowd would quickly diminish and leave me a clear enough field.

Here I was sorely mistaken.

I can only suppose that the vigilance shown by the police for the last three days had aroused such an interest as Sallust had seldom known and that, now that an arrest had been made, everyone that was not abed came running to see the victim and prove the achievement true. What was far worse, they were not content to stand and watch me go by, but must move the way I was going and so form a curious escort through which no prisoner could break.

Indeed, I soon saw that it was hopeless, for George and Rowley could never have won to my side, and when, by the light of some lamp, I caught site of the former’s face, I made haste to shake my head as though to forbid an endeavour which could not succeed.

We passed up a long, steep alley and turned to the left, the crowd all the time increasing and seeming to bear us along, and plainly proposing to see me into the jail. No Barabbas was more duly attended, and, though I was shown no ill will, the progress had the air of a triumph, as many marching in front as were marching behind.

Again we turned, to enter a very old street, where the houses seemed to be topless and the yellow-burning lamps to shed more shadows than light. For a crime or a rescue it was a likely place, and I could have stamped to behold the very venue I had wished for, yet now could not use. Then a large, hollow, metal body fell suddenly out of the air and into the press of people directly ahead.

I cannot describe the confusion the incident caused.

The street being dark, no one had seen the ponderous missile in flight, but the noise which it made on the cobbles and the yells of pain and dismay from such as had embarrassed its fall declared some misadventure of an unusual sort. Eager to sift the mystery, those behind pressed forward and those in front turned back, while those that were hurt and their neighbours fought and clamoured to leave the danger point.

It follows that my captors and I were very soon jammed in the press, for although they demanded way, they might as well have addressed the waves of the sea.

Now had they contrived to emerge, my rescue would have been done, for, except for George and Rowley, they would clearly have had all the rest of the street to themselves: but though they tried, they could not, and when I tried, they withstood me, because, I suppose, they thought I was trying to escape.

So we heaved and swayed and shouted, while two good minutes went by. Then I saw the flash of a torch approaching the scene and three more police came bustling to seal my doom.

They had come, of course, to see what the outcry might be, but as soon as they learned what manner of prisoner I was, they made a way for their fellows and the five of them carried me off.

The station stood in a square a little way off, and before five more minutes had passed, I was haled up a flight of broad steps and into a low-pitched hall, where two or three police were standing about a small fire of logs. From there I was led to a room in which an inspector sat, and to him the police that had seized me told their tale. Then I was questioned, but stuck to what I had said, and after two jailers had searched me they thrust me into a cell.

I was presently given some supper of which I was very glad, for though we had eaten at Bariche, that meal had been hasty and broken and our drive through the cool, night air had served to sharpen a hunger that had been but half appeased; and when my supper was done I made bold to smoke, for, though they had turned out my pockets, the jailers had taken nothing but only the map.

I cannot think why I assumed that I should be kept at Sallust until the next day, but I was about to make the best of my pallet, when I heard the sound of an engine whose throttle is thrown wide open and suddenly closed. I listened carefully. Then came steps in the hall, and some door was opened and shut.

I could tell from the engine’s note that the car was not that of Grieg, but I guessed it had come from Vigil and had brought two or more detectives to carry me back.

I sat down on my stool and waited, but not for long.

Almost at once the jailers came to fetch me, and thirty seconds later I was back in the inspector’s room.

The scene stands out of my memory, clean and sharp.

As I had expected, there stood two plain-clothes men, one of whom I judged a sergeant, both of whom looked civil, but very grave. A little apart stood the police that had made my arrest. Two more uniformed police were standing against the wall, and behind a rude, deal table the inspector sat back in his chair. One of the whitewashed walls was bright with steel: handcuffs and chains and even a pair of fetters hung from their several nails. Over all one unshaded lamp was throwing a brilliant light.

At a gesture from the inspector the jailers turned on their heels and left the room.

There was a moment’s silence: some excitement that I could not interpret was in the air: the local police were gazing at the detectives, and the latter were speaking together below their breath.

The inspector leaned suddenly forward.

‘We are right?’ he said. ‘It – it is he?’

The detective-sergeant nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is he.’

An audible sigh of relief ran round the room, and the stir that always follows the lifting of some suspense made itself heard.

A moment later the inspector was repeating the report which my captors had made.

Before he had got very far, the detective-sergeant frowned.

‘“Coming into the country”?’ he said. ‘You mean “going out”.’

At once the police that had found me insisted that I had come in, to the plain contempt of the detectives, who flatly refused to allow that I had not been in the act of leaving the land. Such confident disbelief was most provoking, and I was not surprised when my captors began to bridle and give back scorn for scorn. An argument so conducted could have but one end, and before a minute was out the four had lost their tempers and were doing their utmost to shout each other down.

Now whilst they disputed, I thought – and that very hard.

Our suspicion of Grieg’s misconduct was fully confirmed. No one but he and his chauffeurs had any idea that we had been driven to Bariche six hours before. From Prince to constable, the executive of the country had been betrayed.

It occurred to me that I held one very good card, and since I had had my fill of losing chances, I decided to wait no longer, but play it forthwith.

A lull in the altercation gave me the opening I wished.

‘Gentlemen,’ said I, looking round, ‘I have a statement to make. I think it will be of interest to everyone here. But before I do so, be good enough to give me a chair. I am something tired of standing, and I think I have a right to sit down.’

There was an electric silence.

From behind his table the sturdy inspector stared.

‘What right?’ he said, frowning.

‘This,’ said I. ‘I am Richard Chandos, husband of the Grand Duchess Leonie.’

The inspector laughed.

‘Aha,’ said he. ‘I have been waiting for that. We were told you would probably dare to take that name.’

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘So I was christened,’ I said. ‘But we will not argue the point. His Royal Highness may well deny me. If the Baron Sully were here–’

The man started out of his seat, and his four subordinates gazed at me open-mouthed. Only the two detectives showed no surprise.

At length—

‘Is this true?’ said the inspector weakly.

‘Yes,’ said the senior detective. ‘It is perfectly true.’

The inspector took a deep breath.

‘I should have been told,’ he said shakily.

‘How could I know?’ He turned on the gaping constables. ‘Fetch his lordship a chair, you fools. You heard what he said.’

A chair was hurriedly brought, and I sat myself down.

‘And now,’ said I, ‘for my statement. The officers that took me are perfectly right. I was not leaving the country. I had that instant come in. I had come by car from Bariche as fast as I could.’

‘From Bariche?’ cried a detective.

‘From Bariche,’ said I.

‘But, sir, you were two miles from Vigil at half past five.’

‘So Reubens told you,’ said I. ‘Well, Reubens told you the truth. I was within his horse-lines at half past five. And at half past six I was at Bariche, at the sign of
The Broken Egg
. I crossed the border at Elsa,
and I travelled in Major Grieg’s car
.’ There was a gasp of amazement, and I heard the detective-sergeant smother an oath. ‘He put me out of the country to serve some end of his own; but I don’t much like his assistance, and so I came back.’

With that, I described Grieg’s chauffeurs and the inside of his car; and I bade them ring up Elsa and ask if this had not passed twice between six and seven o’clock.

They heard me out in a silence big with wrath, and seemed to be very willing to believe what I said.

When I had done—

‘Tell me one thing, sir,’ said one of the plain-clothes police. ‘Between Vigil and Elsa are they anywhere mending the road?’

‘Yes,’ said I. ‘Some two miles this side of Elsa we passed a roller at work.’

‘That’s right,’ said his fellow. ‘They started this afternoon.’

‘I can beat that,’ said I, and showed them the bill for the food we had had at
The Broken Egg
. This was dated and bore the name of the house.

In silence the paper was passed from hand to hand.

‘So you see,’ said I. ‘I shouldn’t report to Grieg. I mean, he’s let you down once.’

A sound like a snarl of approval came from the uniformed police, but trouble looked out of the two detectives’ eyes.

‘It is done, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘He must have learned that you were taken almost as soon as we.’

‘Where is he?’

‘At the seat of the Baron Sabre, who is away just now, whose cousin he is.’

‘Baron Sabre.’ His was the spreading estate upon which we had lost our bearings four days before. If she was not at Vigil, the Countess…

I wrenched my thoughts away and fingered my chin.

‘Grieg’s appointment is very recent. To whom would you have answered a fortnight ago?’

‘To the Chief of Police, sir. But this is a special job.’

‘I can well believe that,’ said I. ‘Never mind. The point is this. I’ve shown you that Grieg is a blackguard and–’

‘You have that, my lord,’ mouthed the inspector. ‘A price of five hundred pounds had been set on your lordship’s head.’

With his words, the scales fell from my eyes. By making my disclosure, I had done better than I knew. Grieg might be a traitor, but he was also a thief. By putting me out of the country, he had wilfully taken the bread out of his subordinates’ mouths. That I had restored it so handsomely was beside the point. Every man in that room was thirsting to bring Grieg down.

I pressed my advantage home.

‘And on those of my friends?’

‘Two hundred and fifty, my lord.’

‘Well, that’s gone,’ said I. ‘They went with me to Bariche and you’ll never see them again.’ The inspector choked. ‘And now, as I was saying, the point is this. The moment Grieg learns that I’m here, his one idea and object will be to – to shut my mouth. He will, therefore, come here to get me and take me away
alone
. Well, I don’t mind standing my trial, but I’ve no desire to be murdered – you know what he is.’

There was a pregnant silence.

At last a detective spoke.

‘Will you write out a statement, sir, of all you have said?’

‘With pleasure,’ said I, rising.

‘That we can take, with the bill from
The Broken Egg
, and show to the Chief of Police. And on those he will surely act.’

‘Too late,’ said I.

‘If you write it at once, sir, we will return to Vigil and go to his private house. Then he will give us an order which Major Grieg dare not defy.’

‘And if he comes while you are gone?’

‘He will not, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘He will not come before day.’

I took my seat at the table and started to write.

My statement must have read very ill, for I am no German scholar, and though I can speak well enough that unattractive tongue, I could not write down correctly one half of the words I use. Besides, I wasted no time, for I knew I had spoken the truth and that Grieg, full ripe for murder, was on his way.

One lie only I told, and that was that George had set me down at Sallust and then gone with Bell to Littai, to comfort my wife.

Then I subscribed my name, and pinned to the sheet the bill of
The Broken Egg
.

As I got to my feet—

‘I think,’ I said grimly, ‘I think that should fix Major Grieg.’

‘Sir,’ said the sergeant, ‘you have just signed his death warrant.’

With his words came the squeal of brakes, and then the heavy slam of the door of a car.

In a flash I had slipped the statement under a blotting-pad.

‘What did I tell you?’ I said.

As I spoke, I saw my pistol, lying there on the table six inches away.