Fire Below (12 page)

I went on my way cheerfully…

To the north of the house stood stabling about a yard, but I heard no sound of horses and saw no movement at all. What I found to the east, however, repaid me for making the round.

This face of the house rose from a row of arches which gave to an empty cloister, flagged with stone. Above ran one row of windows, and these very tall, suggesting a gallery or banqueting room: and right at the end stood the chapel, with, rising above it, a belfry in which hung a poor-looking bell.

Now, as I have shown, we could not come up to the mansion without crossing the girdle of turf, and though Grieg might not see us, he was almost certainly keeping some sort of look-out. I found it unlikely, however, that he would attend to this side, and the cloister, when once we had made it, would afford the finest cover that any man could desire. As like as not, moreover, it served as a porch to some door, and I made up my mind to fetch Rowley without more ado.

It took me some time to make my way back to his side, and when I had told him my news and had given him Grieg’s pistol, I turned on my back for a moment, to take some rest.

Before I had lain for two minutes, far in the distance I heard the sound of a car.

Even as I heard it, it faded, only to swell into earshot more clear than before.

Some car was coming from Vigil – at least, from the west.

We waited breathlessly…

Then a closed car flashed from the trees and swept to the house. On the seat by the driver sat one of the uniformed police.

It seemed that Grieg’s hour was come.

I was watching the car swing out to sweep to the door, when I heard another car coming, though not so fast as the first.

I returned to the latter to see get out the sergeant who had been so friendly to me the night before. Two other police were with him, one in plain-clothes.

Their mission admitted of no doubt. But since of the four not one took the simple precaution of stepping as far as the corner and looking down the side of the house, I would have laid any money that they were doomed to draw blank. Indeed, it came into my mind that now was the moment for us to repair to Grieg’s car, for that there we should be certain to find him and Rowley could do his business and shoot him dead.

The notion was idle, and I dismissed it at once, if only because of the attention which the sound of the shot would attract; but even as I dismissed it, I saw the outstanding value of such a move.

Rowley had Grieg’s own pistol. Once he had killed the fellow, he had but to thrust the weapon into its owner’s hand and make himself scarce. The police would rush to the scene to find that
the man they were seeking had put an end to their duty by taking his life
.

Their work being, therefore, over, they would see to the bestowal of the body and go their way, little dreaming that we were but waiting for them to take their leave.

As George Hanbury would have said, ‘the thing was too easy’. As I turned to give Rowley his orders, I heard a familiar sigh – the sigh of a well-tuned engine, running very slowly just out of sight.

The second car had just surmounted the ridge and was gliding into the hollow, or standing still.
And I knew whose car it was and why he had come
.

Prince Paul had been shown my statement and had come in all his fury to settle with Grieg.

It was now more important than ever that we should not lose a moment in giving effect to my plan. I, therefore, touched Rowley’s shoulder, and, using the greatest caution, began to move back through our cover in order to come to Grieg’s car.

So for some fifty paces, and then we were brought up short.

A pleasant ride cut through the wood we were using and lay like a smooth, green river full in our path. Running due north and south, it was at this hour full of sunlight, and, though it was screened from the mansion, anyone standing at the point where it met the drive could have seen a rabbit crossing a furlong away. And there, at that point of vantage, no more than twenty yards distant from where we lay, was resting the royal car.

I could not see the Prince, but I could hear him speaking, though not what he said. A door of the car was open, and two men I had never seen were standing close beside it, looking towards the house. One I had little doubt was the Chief of Police. By the side of the chauffeur sat an officer, wearing field-service dress.

My first idea was to withdraw, with a view to crossing the ride at its farther end: then I saw that to fetch such a compass would take us full twenty minutes if we were to move with care, whereas, if the royal car passed on, we could reach Grieg’s car in a moment from where we now lay. Add to this that until the Prince moved, we could not put our plan into action for fifty Griegs, for, let alone the risk of an outcry, a shot fired at quarters so close would have brought his companions about us before we could make ourselves scarce.

So we lay in the undergrowth, peering through a lattice of brambles and straining our ears.

I cannot say how long we waited before we could hear what was said, but the Prince was impatient as ever and kept up a fire of what I took to be grumbling, for those about him said nothing, but only shifted and frowned and continued to stare down the road. They could, of course, see nothing except a slice of the house, but that, I think, was because the very odour of peril offended their master’s nose.

At last he flung out of the car and on to the turf.

‘—the fools,’ he spouted. ‘Four of them to collar one rogue, and they can’t bring it off. They’re funking it, Weber. They’re afraid.’

The Chief of Police summoned a crooked smile.

‘I don’t think so, sir,’ he said.

‘Then why don’t they come?’

The other inclined his head.

‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I can offer a dozen reasons. He may not be there, for one thing. Or if he is there, they may have found him abed.’

‘Rot,’ said the Prince. ‘He’s there all right, and they know it. But they’ll come back and swear he isn’t because of the value they set on their dirty skins. Suppose they’d been placed as I was the other day. Alone in a high-walled garden, with three men trying to kill me – and I without a stick in my hands. Three of them, man. I admit I went up a tree, but that was because I couldn’t get into the house. I laid two of them out, anyway. And the third ran like a rabbit – to get behind a shutter and shoot me as I came to the steps. And then I had to watch my two chauffeurs give away the game I had won. Dirty white-livered skunks.’

Weber made no reply. I fancy he knew his man.

‘The point is this,’ said the Prince. ‘If Grieg–’

‘Here they come, sir,’ said Weber’s companion.

The Prince stood his ground.

‘Have they got him?’ he said.

‘Yes, sir,’

‘Is he handcuffed?’

‘Yes, sir.’

The Prince fell to biting his nails. Suddenly he started forward.

‘I’ll get back in the car,’ he said. ‘No, I won’t.’ He stopped in his tracks. ‘Candel, get down and come and stand by my side. Have your revolver ready, and if he moves a muscle just shoot him down.’

The officer alighted and stepped to his monarch’s side.

To this day I do not know how Grieg came to be caught. Having no one to share his vigilance, he had, I imagine, taken some petty risk. Had he opened a tap, for example, the noise of the running water might well have covered the sound of the oncoming car. And he had the look of a man surprised at his toilet, for he wore no coat or collar, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled back.

He was between two police, and at a sign from Weber the three marched on to the sward.

His face was like a grim mask, and his lip was curling a little, as though in insolent scorn.

I found myself wondering what cards he was going to play.

He made no sort of reverence, but took his stand firmly and looked the Prince up and down.

The latter’s eyes narrowed.

‘You’re a pretty blackguard, aren’t you?’ he said.

‘No doubt your Royal Highness knows best. You always do.’

‘You insolent swine,’ cried the Prince. ‘This is what I get for taking you back. I exercised the prerogative of mercy–’

‘Why?’ said Grieg.

‘Because it was my pleasure,’ said the Prince, with a lift of his chin.

‘Because,’ said Grieg deliberately, ‘you believed me the only man that could lay these scum by the heels.’

The other stamped his foot.

‘Don’t dare to answer me back. I decided to give you a chance, and you’ve used it to let me down. You’re a filthy traitor, Grieg. You always were. But you’ve cut your throat this time, and by God, I’m going to put you where you belong.’

Grieg shrugged his shoulders.

‘“Put not your trust in Princes”,’ he said.

The monarch put his hands on his hips and wagged his unpleasant head.

‘Nothing doing this time,’ he sneered. ‘How much did they pay you, Grieg?’

‘We are not upon those terms,’ said Grieg shortly. ‘They know me too well.’

‘I see,’ said the Prince softly. ‘Well, I’m sorry to say they’ve split. They’ve given you away with both hands. The price isn’t mentioned, but how d’you explain how they know the inside of your car?’

Again Grieg shrugged his shoulders.

‘I can only attribute that to the use of their eyes.’

‘The inside, Grieg. Not the outside.’

‘Same answer,’ said Grieg insolently.

The other’s smile changed to a glare.

‘Are you trying to bluff?’ he demanded. ‘Because if you are –’

‘I am not in the habit,’ snapped Grieg, ‘of wasting my time. You’ve made up your mind I’m a traitor – “a filthy traitor” I think were the royal words. As is your way, you’ve therefore had me arrested out of hand. No doubt you will deal with me as you think I deserve.’

‘By God, I will,’ said the Prince.

‘And with the English swine you commanded me to capture – by hook or by crook.’

The Prince’s eyes burned in his head.

‘To capture, Grieg, to capture,’ he raved. ‘Not to succour, you hound. Not to put out of the country – out of my reach. Did they have a good meal at Bariche? Whose health do you think they drank at
The Broken Egg
? Don’t you think they laughed as they went by the guards at Elsa? Don’t you think she’s laughing at Littai? Hooting with laughter to think that I’ve been befooled? And where’s Chandos? You had him last night alone, with cuffs on his wrists. Where is he now? He was in your charge, and I demand him. You gave a receipt for his body. You signed the book. He was safe under lock and key, and you used the power I gave you to take him out. Perhaps you lent him your car to go to Littai…’

Grieg threw back his head and laughed.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You suddenly restore me to favour and give me orders which I promise to execute. Before my work is over, without a word of explanation I am put under arrest. That by the very men of whom half an hour ago I was in command. D’you think that conduct’s conducive to getting your way?’ He flung out his manacled wrists. ‘How the devil can I produce Chandos or anyone else? More. Why the devil should I produce them in the face of treatment like this? Why should I answer your questions? Why open my mouth? I signed the receipt for his body. You’ve cancelled that receipt by having me put in irons. You gave and you have taken away. That is the prerogative of princes. I have been, somewhat brusquely, relieved of my authority. You will no doubt replace me by someone whom you can trust. It does not amuse me to teach my successor to gather the fruit of my work.’

There was an uneasy silence.

I saw the Prince glance at the others and his hand go up to his mouth. Then he took out his case and lighted a cigarette.

‘I’ll see you,’ he blurted suddenly. ‘Explain your conduct – if you can. I’ll hear what you’ve got to say.’

Grieg eyed the youth with supreme contempt.

‘Your Royal Highness is rather dense this morning. I have been at some pains to point out that I am dismissed your service.’ He bowed elaborately. ‘I have, therefore, nothing to report.’

‘Oh, go to hell,’ said the Prince. ‘I’ve every — reason to think that you’ve let me down. So’s Weber. So’s everyone. You put those swine out of the country. God knows why one came back. But he did, and was pinched at Sallust. And you – you took him away… Say where he is – produce him, and you can go free.’

‘You asked for the three,’ said Grieg. ‘You gave me a free hand, and you asked for the three. If you had cared to trust me, you would have had them tonight.’

‘Yes, that’s easy,’ sneered the Prince. ‘If you think–’

‘I don’t,’ said Grieg. ‘I know you. When I took the job on, I knew it would end like this. But against these men I had a personal grudge. And so, against my judgment, I took it on.’ He flung out a bitter laugh. ‘If I had gone round searching farms and visiting frontier-posts, I shouldn’t be handcuffed now; but because I play the scum at their devil’s own game I am immediately suspect – presumed “a filthy traitor”, and that out of Chandos’ mouth.’ He expired violently. ‘He tells you I sent him to Bariche. Maybe he produces a bill from
The Broken Egg
. Does he say whom he met at Bariche? Or what he arranged with them? Does he say that he
and his fellows
were back here by ten o’clock – according to plan,
my plan
? That again I gave them my car, to try and find the Countess and take her away? Does he tell you the path that they’re going to take tonight? The secret smugglers’ path which nobody knows? Does he say who’s going to be there…waiting by the side of the water…with only one servant with her…and the night too dark to distinguish any man’s face?’

‘My God,’ cried the Prince hoarsely. ‘How do you know?’

‘It’s very simple,’ said Grieg. ‘Everyone here has been looking from Vigil to the border and back, till they’ve got St Vitus’ dance. I’ve been watching Littai.’

He stopped there, as though to regard the sensation his words had caused. This was manifest. His audience did not seem to be breathing. Only Weber fingered his chin, with a distant look in his eyes.

‘What happens at Littai tells me what’s happening here. The Grand Duchess moved to Bariche three days ago. That meant they were going to communicate. Very well. Their only way of getting a message to Bariche was to go to Bariche themselves. And as I wanted to know what that message was going to be, I took the trouble to send them to Bariche myself. They were bound to come back to get the Countess… Of course the police at Sallust meant well, but they very nearly ruined–’