Fire Below (10 page)

‘What it cost us to get that wagon across the road won’t go into any words that I know. You might as well try and adapt Rabelais to a Children’s Service in Lent. At first, I thought the brakes must be on. Then I found it was weight – sheer, dead weight. I imagine it was left where it was because the bullocks were whacked… Well, we got it into position, staggered to the side of the road and lay down to die. It didn’t seem possible that the body could survive such a hideous output of strength. After about one minute we heard another car coming,
going the same way as the first
.

‘If you can gauge our emotions, you must have an expansive brain. I haven’t got them right yet. Instinctively we knew – I believe the correct word is “sensed” – that this was the car that mattered and that the one which was gone was of no account. Well, there you are. If we left the wagon where it was, a thousand to one the police would fail to move it and have to turn back. If they were able to move it, what do you think they would say when,
on returning
, they found it, not where they had left it, but once again in their way? Exactly. Something would tell them that it hadn’t moved on its own. I mean, there was no wind.

‘Well, we got it out of the way. As we collapsed, Grieg’s car went by a blue streak. As soon as I recovered consciousness, I perceived the miracle. How was it we had been able to move the wagon in time? There was only one explanation. Between the time when we had first heard Grieg’s car and the moment at which it went by, that car must have stopped on the road.
Must
. We mounted and rode on slowly. I didn’t care if I never saw the wagon again. Two minutes later we found the level crossing… After that it was easy enough. We let the detectives go by and waited for Grieg. At first I was afraid of his headlights. Then I saw there was a kink in the road, and that when the car was stopped it would be so much on the skew that the windlass would be out of the beam. There was a sack all ready by the side of the gate. We made it into a sandbag, and then, one after the other, we knocked the chauffeurs out. I’d no idea what a nice, clean job you can do with a couple of pounds of grit. Rowley seemed to know all about it. You’ve only got to find your length.’

I stood before Grieg, who was sitting by the side of the road.

‘Up to now they’ve looked for three men: very soon they will be looking for four. I think that’s indisputable. Nobody – not even a Prince – likes being double-crossed. I imagine, therefore, that, if you could have your way, you’d put yourself over the border as quick as you could. Very well. Help us to what we want, and we’ll do our best to get you out with us.’

Grieg laughed an unpleasant laugh.

‘What’s the alternative?’ he said.

‘We see that you don’t get out. No leaving you here.’

For a moment Grieg said nothing, but sat with his eyes on the road and his underlip caught in his teeth. Then–

‘I suppose I can trust you,’ he said.

‘I suppose so,’ said I.

‘All right,’ said Grieg. ‘Carry on.’

‘Where’s Madame Dresden?’ said I.

‘At the Lessing Strasse,’ said Grieg.

‘Why d’you say that?’

‘I took her there myself at eight o’clock.’

‘Is she under arrest?’ said George.

‘No.’

‘But confined to her house?’

‘No. The police are withdrawn.’

‘Why?’

Grieg shrugged his shoulders.

‘She told you she was to be pardoned. It was perfectly true. And the moment that she was pardoned the police were withdrawn.’

‘Why was she pardoned?’

Grieg laughed again.

‘It’s very simple,’ he said. ‘I found her on Saturday morning, a day and a half ago. I had authority to offer her a free pardon if she would say where you were. At first she didn’t see her way to – to disclosure: but after twenty-four hours we came to terms. She said you were with the circus, and when the police saw Reubens they found she had spoken the truth. By the time they got there, of course, the birds had flown. But that wasn’t my lady’s fault. She’d done her half of the bargain, and so her pardon holds.’

This calm avowal of as dirty a piece of work as ever was done made my gorge rise. I felt that I wanted water to rinse my mouth.

‘Yes, I wonder where Dante would put you,’ said George thickly. ‘You’ve deliberately represented that, in order to save herself, the Countess betrayed her friends.’

‘Naturally,’ said Grieg, yawning.

‘When all the time the truth is that, in order to save her friends, she betrayed herself.’

Grieg raised his eyebrows.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘you can put it however you please.’

I heard George draw in his breath. When he spoke again his voice was a little unsteady – a very rare thing.

‘You said that you “came to terms.” What were those filthy terms?’

‘Oh, go to hell,’ said Grieg shortly. ‘You asked where she was, and I’ve told you and given chapter and verse for all that I’ve said. If you want to get out of the country, I shouldn’t stand slobbering there.’

George Hanbury stood very still.

‘The temptation to kill you,’ he said, ‘is almost too strong. I know we’ve passed our word, but I shouldn’t try us too far. We’re only human, you know, and I’ve known a rope that was warranted snap in two.’

Greig laughed again, and since the man’s demeanour was not to be borne, I laid hold of George’s arm and we turned away…

We found no tools in the car with which my wrists could be freed, but there was a hank of cord with which to bind those of Grieg.

The fellow protested, of course, and when we proposed to gag him, he fought like a beast. This, I confess, to our liking, for we had been itching for an excuse for violence and took a grim delight in subduing his energy.

When it was done–

‘It isn’t that we don’t trust you,’ said George, ‘but from what we know of you, we think that you might forget. You see, if you were the means of getting us caught in Vigil, they might write off your shortcomings; and that wouldn’t suit our book. And now will you enter the carriage? Or shall we kick you in?’

A moment later we were once more aboard the car, which Rowley was fairly lifting over the crest of a hill.

George sat in front with Rowley, and because of my handcuffs I sat within, with Grieg.

We went so fast that though we did not pass the detectives, by the time we came to Vigil we must have been close on their heels, and as we turned into the peaceful Lessing Strasse, I heard some clock striking one.

The street was dimly lighted, for though there were lamps enough, the pleasant burden of the lime trees obscured their light, and though the place seemed to be empty, it might have been hiding a regiment ready to spring to life.

I found myself praying that Marya was not abed.

If she were, we must take Grieg with us and enter the house. To sit without, waiting while she dressed – for all we knew, the loadstone of fifty eyes, was more than I felt that I could face.

Besides, a patrol might come by and stop to have a word with Grieg’s chauffeur – only a word…

As the car came to rest before Madame Dresden’s house,
three men stepped out of the shadows and touched their hats
.

For the tenth of a second I think my heart stood still.

The Grieg flung himself forward, making a rattling noise.

I had him by the throat in an instant and must near have broken his back, for I forced his head into the corner from which he had sprung and threw myself on his body to keep him from using his feet.

I heard George whispering hoarsely.

‘Governor’s asleep,’ he said. ‘I believe he’s come for the Countess.’

‘The Countess?’ said one of the police. ‘Why should the Countess be here?’

‘Let her go, Rowley,’ says George, as cool as you please.

He spoke in English, for Rowley knew no German; but the change of front was so obvious that nothing was left, I fancy, for speech to betray. Still, if it was obvious, it was swift…

As the car leapt forward, one of the police gave a cry, but, if he had smelt the truth, he had smelt it too late, and the chance was gone before his suspicions had set.

We swept up the street like a squall, and if they took any action, I do not know what it was. Indeed, the whole matter was like an ‘in-and-out’ jump, and had it been midnight instead of one o’clock, the clock which we had heard striking as we came into the street might well have been still striking as we went out.

When we had swung round a corner, I let Grieg go. Then I put my head out of the window and spoke to George.

‘All’s well that ends well,’ said I. ‘And now for Baron Sabre’s. We might have known she’d be there.’

‘I don’t see how we could have,’ said George. ‘It was more than likely, of course: but we should have been insane if we hadn’t drawn Vigil first. And what about Satan’s delight? Is he yet alive?’

‘Yes,’ said I. ‘But I should value his room.’

‘When we’re clear of the town,’ said George. ‘Just as well we didn’t get out.’

That was a true saying. Had only George alighted, there on that shadowy pavement our venture would have come to an end. Had he been seized, we could not have gone and left him; because my hands were useless, Rowley must have gone to his help; and, though I might have taken the driver’s seat, had I been interfered with I could never have got us away when the moment came.

I cast no stone at Grieg for leading us into the trap. All is fair in war, and he was a desperate man. He played the right cards. That these were dirty was because his hands were unclean.

Five miles beyond the city, we put him out of the car.

We took the gag from his mouth and lashed him back to a gatepost by the side of the Austrian road. There he would be found in the morning and, we supposed, set free by some passer-by, too late to save his bacon, with nothing to do but go into instant hiding in the hope of leaving the country before his arrest was made.

We had not spoken in his hearing of Baron Sabre’s house, and I have no doubt that he thought his secret safe.

To fortify this conclusion—

‘You’ve lied to us once,’ said George, with his foot on the step. ‘Would you like to do it again?’

The black eyes lighted with malice.

‘You’ll never find Madame Dresden.’

Not till long after did I see the truth of his words.

Two heart-breaking hours went by before we found the mansion to which we had come so close four days before. God knows that was long enough, but I sometimes think we were lucky to find it at all, for our precious map was at Sallust, and we had to go round by Vardar and pick our way back from there. And this was the devil, for the night was dark as pitch, and we could not see enough of the roads to enable us to determine whether we had used them before. Twice we knocked up farmers to ask our way, but though they were civil enough, the one declared that the house we sought was not on this side of Vigil, while the other had not slept off his liquor and could not be persuaded that we did not desire to be directed to the tavern from which this had come. We were, indeed, growing desperate when somehow or other we blundered into a park through which a thin white road went curling into the night.

There could now be no doubt that at last we had stumbled upon the Sabre estate, for I was quite sure that no other private house had been shown hereabouts upon the map. The road, therefore, seemed certain to take us straight to the mansion which we had been seeking so long, and I cried to George to tell Rowley to let the car go.

For a while the drive was level, but after five minutes the ground began to rise. Then we must have passed over some ridge, for all of a sudden we saw a light stabbing the darkness against the mass of a house.

The road ran straight to the doorway above which the lantern hung: there it swelled into a sweep, and Rowley, who needed no telling, brought the car round and up to the broad, low steps.

No light came from any window, and when the engine was stopped, we heard no sound.

We descended furtively.

As George put a hand to the door, this was silently opened, and there was an old serving-man with a lamp in his hand.

He asked no questions, but only set the door wide and held it until we were in. Then he shut it slowly, and shot the ponderous bolts.

As he turned.

‘Take me to the lady,’ said George. ‘I bear an urgent message from Major Grieg.’

The old man turned to me and lifted his lamp.

‘Why, I thought that was he,’ he said, peering.

‘That,’ said George, ‘is his prisoner,’ and touched my gyves.

‘Lord, lord,’ said the other, staring. ‘But what a grim present to send. I think a posy of flowers would have been more to her taste.’

‘That’s as may be,’ said George. ‘I take it the Major knows best. And now lead on, my friend. It’s late, and we’re not through yet.’

We followed him up a great staircase, George leading and Rowley behind…

Arrived at some tall double doors the old fellow went very close and inclined his head. Then he knocked very gently, and, after waiting a little, made bold to open a leaf…

It was a handsome chamber, too broad for the two candelabra whose candles had burned very low. Great curtains masked the windows, and tapestry hung upon the walls. The furniture was massive and stilted and seemed more fit to be looked at than put to use, and I remember thinking that only the brave sunshine could truly furnish an apartment so big with dignity. The fireplace was presenting a mouth through which a small car could have passed, and the ashes of a dead wood fire lay in the monstrous grate.

At first the room seemed empty. Then I saw the Countess sitting stiff in a high-backed chair.

Her face was white and drawn, and her hands were holding fast to the edge of the tapestry seat. Her eyes were wide, and she was looking before her at the huddle of cold, grey ash.

As I closed the door behind me—

‘Marya,’ breathed George. ‘Marya.’

For a moment she stared upon us, as though we were risen from the grave. Then her eyes fell to my handcuffs and she started up to her feet.

‘My God!’ she breathed. ‘My God! Carol told me–’