Blood Royal (16 page)

“If he leaves the apartments,” said Sully, “he fears that he may not get back. There are sentries everywhere.”

“But he has to leave for his food.”

Sully shook his head.

“No. The royal apartments are like an ordinary flat. Grimm and the four footmen sleep and eat next to the Prince. They always have. A lift goes down to the kitchens. For the last three days neither Grimm nor his son have been out of the royal apartments.”

“What of the others?” said I. “The other footmen, I mean?”

Sully shrugged his shoulders.

“They are untrustworthy. Grimm has reason to think that one at least was aware that the telephone was to be cut. He would dismiss them in an instant, but they are kept so busy that they cannot be spared.”

The Countess put in her oar, but I was trying to think and I do not know what she said.

The loss of the telephone was serious: but, once we were in the passage, one of us could act as a runner to carry the news. What was, to my mind, far more grave was that
three out of five of the men who were in the holy of holies were taking their cue from Johann
.

Sully was speaking.

“If we are not to be advised, madam, we stand no chance. I cannot dwell at the palace, and even if I could—”

“Are the footmen powdered?” said I.

They all stared at me.

“Yes,” said Sully. “The Prince always keeps his state.”

“Tell me,” said I. “At what hour do you go there again?”

“At six o’clock,” said Sully.

I glanced at the watch on my wrist.

“In three and a half hours’ time. Can you go there before?”

“I would rather not,” said Sully. “I have no doubt that my visits are reported to the Duke Johann. I do not wish him to find them irregular.”

“Then must we hope,” said I, “that the Prince’s condition will not change before six o’clock. At that hour give Grimm these orders. First, he is to sack the three footmen he does not trust – return them to ordinary duty, or, if they have no other, send them away. This he is to do then and there. Let them change their clothes and be gone by seven o’clock. And when they are gone, he will go at once to the wardrobe, open the door to the passage and speak to George.”

Sully put a hand to his head.

“But I have told you, Chandos, that Grimm says they cannot be spared. The apartments are spacious, and the men are on their feet from—”

“I will replace them,” said I. “All three – at seven o’clock.”

There was an electric silence.

Then I heard a sound which sent my heart into my mouth.

It was the clear, peremptory call which Duke Paul had sounded at Anger against my will – a call not meant for cities, but used to clear the way on the open road.

It was the horn of the Rolls.

I turned to the Grand Duchess.

“I hear the servants,” I said. “They were not told to come here, and they would never have done so without good cause. I beg that you will excuse us, and please induce Baron Sully to do as I say.”

She was very calm, but I saw the alarm in her eyes.

“You should have left Vigil this morning.”

“Oh, no,” said I, smiling. “You won’t forget Grimm’s orders? At seven o’clock.”

My darling looked me full in the eyes.

“I shall forget nothing,” she said.

The next instant I was gone.

I followed George out of the hall and closed the front door.

As I did so, the Rolls came to rest by the pavement beyond the gate.

Two men, standing on the pavement, were watching it curiously: then they glanced at each other and turned to the steps.

“Not a moment to lose, sir,” said Rowley, as though he were speaking to Bell.

As we passed through the gate—

“Excuse me, sirs,” said one of the plain-clothes police, “but, if I may ask your indulgence—”

“Another time,” said George.

He brushed the fellow aside and vaulted into the car.

Another car was turned violently into the quiet street.

“That’s them, sir,” said Rowley. “Quick!”

As I flung myself forward, the two men fell upon me, as dogs on a rat.

There was no time to repulse them: there was no time for Rowley to come to my aid. The police car was thirty yards off: already its brakes were in action, and I saw its near door open and policemen ready to drop.

By a tremendous effort I reached the side of the Rolls.

Rowley’s arms went about me, and George caught hold of my wrists.

“Let her go, Bell,” he said.

There never was seen such an exit.

Gathering speed, we swept up the Lessing Strasse, three men within the car and three without. I had one foot on the step, and so had one of the police: his fellow had none. Their full weight was upon me, and between them and George and Rowley I was like to be torn in two. Behind us came yells and whistles and the storming of gears.

As we swung round the first corner, the two police tightened their grip. They were holding to me for safety, and I do not know that I blame them, for we were travelling fast.

George Hanbury was speaking.

“Where are you going, Bell?”

“Into the country, sir. The town isn’t safe.”

“By the Austrian Road?”

“Yes, sir. It’s the only one I know.”

“Well, turn to the left as soon as ever you can. Swing her round as sharp as you dare.”

“Very good, sir.”

An instant later the great car heeled to the left, and the three of us swung inboard, because of the pace. As we did so, Rowley lifted and George caught hold of the man whose arms were about my neck.

Why I was not broken in pieces I do not know, for the two police clung to my body as though they were drowning men. With them like leeches upon me, I was dragged, like a sack of provender, over the side of the car; and even then they would not let go, but George and Rowley had fairly to tear them off me before I could move.

“Are you all right, Bill?” said George.

I was sound enough and only short of some skin, but my clothes were in a bad way, for my coat was split to glory and my shirt was hanging in tatters about my breast.

I then crawled on to the seat, but, when the police would have risen, George bade them stay on the floor.

Five minutes later we were clear of the town.

For the next six miles Bell drove as hard as he could, while Rowley watched our prisoners, and George and I studied the map. Then, where the road was lonely, we turned to the left and set ourselves to the business of baffling pursuit. This was easy, for the country was not at all open and there were plenty of roads.

After perhaps forty minutes, high up among the mountains, we found an excellent lair, where a thicket harboured a quarry which had been long disused. From the head of the quarry a man who was looking out could see the road for some distance on either side, and, though such precaution seemed needless, we set Bell there as a sentry, for one so narrow escape was enough for that afternoon and I had no wish again to see my plans crumble before my eyes.

I will not dwell upon the matter, but so long as I live I shall hear that police car coming and the scream of its brakes. It was only its driver’s error that saved us both. Had he turned in in front of the Rolls, we should have been trapped. Had he but run alongside, the police could have boarded the Rolls and won their match. But, as I have shown, he did neither – and, as the saying is, a miss is as good as a mile.

Hanbury took out tobacco and started to fill a pipe. Then he looked at our prisoners, who were leaning disgustedly against a boulder watching Rowley lash together their ankles as though they were to be entered for a three-legged race.

“You were asking my indulgence,” said George, “and I cut you short. What was it you wanted to say?”

The two looked at one another helplessly.

“Go on,” said George pleasantly. “You were only doing your duty, and we’ve no quarrel with you.”

To point this assurance, I offered the two cigarettes, but, though they seemed greatly relieved and bowed their appreciation as well as they could, they were plainly reluctant to give us the information we sought.

“I think,” said George, “you owe us an explanation. You did your best to arrest us, and, before we leave the country, we should like to know what we’ve done.”

The two regarded one another.

Then—

“You are leaving the country, sir?” said the one who had spoken to George.

“Well, you don’t think we’re going back? Tonight we shall cross the frontier and be in Salzburg by dawn.”

Upon this false declaration, the fellows opened their mouths.

We were to have been arrested for breaking and entering Grieg’s flat.

When we asked why we were suspected, they swore that they did not know; but, after a little, admitted that I was charged with the felony and George with being accessory after the fact.

“I was out of Vigil,” said I, “as your masters very well know.”

Professional pride will out.

“You were there until midnight, sir: and you left the opera-house at half past nine.”

I stared at the speaker.

“That’s perfectly true,” said I. “Who told you that?”

“Do not ask any more, sir,” said the other. “I am sure that you had good reason for all you did, but the warrant was all in order – and, if I may say so, I think you are wise to be gone. You have given offence in high quarters, and—”

“Let me see the warrant,” said George.

At once both protested that the warrant had been held by their chief who had gone to our flat to take us, because he had reason to think that we should be there.

George Hanbury fingered his chin.

“I think,” said he, “that you have a duplicate. You see, your chief wasn’t with you, and, without a warrant…”

He nodded to Rowley, who started to search their pockets in a highly professional way.

“It is hopeless,” said one. “Give it him.”

A blue envelope passed, and George and I sat down to see what its papers would show.

The warrant was seemingly in order, and we turned to another and longer document.

“By thunder!” cried George. “By thunder, this is the goods. This is the ‘information’ – the secret depositions upon which the warrant was applied for. No wonder they were so sticky about parting.”

There were in all five deponents.

The first was Grieg.

His testimony may be imagined. He swore to the bad blood between us and our attempt upon his life, to our sudden occupation of the flat directly below him and our undoubted desire to do him grave injury.

The second was Grieg’s servant.

He swore that our ways were suspicious and that we kept strange hours: that on the night in question he had been out by permission from nine o’clock until twelve: that, though it was not discovered until the morning, he had no doubt that the crime had in fact been committed between those hours, for that he was a light sleeper, yet had heard no sound in the night: that George Hanbury had volunteered that he heard some movement at three, in the hope, no doubt, of diverting suspicion from us.

The third and fourth were detectives, who swore little more than that they knew us by sight and that our ways were peculiar and not at all those of tourists seeking amusement abroad.

The fifth deponent put the rope round our necks.

He swore that we were desperate men and that we carried arms. He had seen us do violence and had heard us threaten Grieg. He had seen us in the stalls of the theatre on Wednesday night and had particularly noticed
that after the first act of Tosca I had gone out of the house and had not reappeared
.

Such was the deposition of his Highness Duke Paul of Riechtenburg.

It is said of Henry II, King of England, that when he saw signed against him his own son’s name, John, Count of Mortain, he turned his face to the wall.

We were not thus moved, and, though we were at once dumbfounded and most deeply provoked, I am glad to think that the more we considered the outrage, the less consideration it seemed to deserve.

At first, in our haste, we were ready to return to Vigil and lay the papers before the Grand Duchess herself. But presently reason prevailed, and we remembered that, after all, Duke Paul was no more to us than a chessboard king that we were seeking to move to his proper place.

“Speaking for myself,” said George, “this entirely beastly young man can go to hell. I’m helping a pretty lady to – God save her – her heart’s desire. I suppose she’s in her right mind, but let that go. And if her heart’s desire is to cherish a third-class viper – well, we must expect to be bitten whenever we give it the chance.”

It was, of course, for my sake that George took the matter so well, for, whatever may be your reason for taking up the cudgels in another’s behalf, if he himself turns upon you, it is only human to wash your hands of the business and let him fare as he deserves: but George was the soul of loyalty and, since it was my furrow he was ploughing, nothing but my hesitation would have made him look back.

His parable of the viper was, I fear, much to the point, but it must be remembered that Duke Paul had little or no idea that we were doing our utmost to place him upon the throne: that does not excuse his misconduct, but, as some two hours later, we picked our way through the mountains towards the town we had left, I could not help feeling that to judge such a youth too harshly was easy enough.

The duke was evil, and the blood in his veins was bad. Little wonder that in such soil honesty languished and ill weeds grew apace. I think he liked no one but himself, and I do not think he would ever have been familiar with any honest man. The Grand Duchess he valued, as one treasures a beautiful horse. Us he disliked of instinct. He envied our car and our servants and our freedom from worldly care. We had not courted his pleasure, and more than once we had shown him very plainly that we were not under his orders and would stand no nonsense from him. Before these whips he had been helpless as the shorn lamb before the wind. Finally, he had grown jealous. The Grand Duchess plainly liked us, and when at Barabbas she had been missing and I had gone off to seek her, I remember that his eyes were upon us as we came forth together to enter the car.