Fire Below (13 page)

‘But not quite,’ cried the Prince excitedly. ‘Not quite. Where’s the path you speak of? I’ll send–’

‘That, sir,’ said Grieg, ‘is my secret. Had I not been arrested, I should have been there tonight – to gather the fruit. But I have already declined to teach any man alive to win my game.’

There was an electric silence.

Then the Prince’s forgotten cigarette burned its way to his fingers and he flung it down with an oath.

‘It’s all damned fine,’ he said fiercely. ‘You say “Put me back, and I’ll deliver the goods”, but–’

‘Pardon me, sir,’ said Grieg. ‘I have said nothing of the kind. I’m through with this job of work. If you went down on your knees, I wouldn’t touch it again. I’ve told you as much as I have, to show you what you’ve missed – to show you the catch I’d have landed, if you hadn’t let me down. And now I’m sick of talking. Where do I go?’

This master-stroke of bluff had its reward.

Before two minutes were gone, Grieg was free of his handcuffs and had somewhat stiffly accepted one of his Royal Highness’ cigarettes.

To round the picture, I heard him arrange with the Prince for three closed cars to be waiting from nine o’clock on, to bring in the prisoners which he was certain to take. These cars were to wait at Vigil until his orders came, and the surly deliberation with which he appointed the hour would, I think, have deceived a far shrewder mind.

I could not help wondering how long the cars would wait and whether Grieg would be at Salzburg before his royal victim discovered that he had been bluffed. What was so strange was the closeness with which his fiction approached the truth. He had plainly been taught the bypass the smugglers used when taking the bridle-path, and had guessed or learned that we had come by that way. And on that he had built his story – his fairy-tale. He could not possibly know that we were in fact proposing that night to do as he said. The thing was absurd. I did not know it myself. As for his mention of Leonie…

With a shock I found myself asking whether indeed it was a chance that had brought him so close to the truth, whether he had truly been bluffing – from beginning to end.

My hair rose at the thought.

Had Grieg some information which gave him just cause to think that that very night we should take the bridle-path? And that Leonie would be waiting on the farther side of the fall?

After a little I dismissed this fantastic notion and turned my attention again to the matter in hand.

To the end of the curious scene I cannot speak, for, fearing that any moment Grieg would return to the house, I determined to try to enter before he came out of the wood. I, therefore, whispered to Rowley to stay where he was and crawled as fast as I could the way we had come.

Once out of earshot, I ventured to take to my feet, but I had to fetch a wide compass because of the police with the car, and I fancy ten minutes had passed before I was facing the cloister which, now that I meant to prove it, looked very dark and grim.

As I gathered myself together to sprint across the girdle of turf, I heard the police car move forward…

An instant later I was standing upon the flagstones straining my ears.

The car which had been moving had come to rest, but its engine was none too silent and its stammer was all I could hear. I, therefore, made bold to look round the edge of the house, to see Grieg speaking to the detectives some forty or fifty yards off.

What he was saying, of course, I could not tell, but the men were listening so intently that I there and then decided that, come what might, we must find some other way out of Riechtenburg. The bridle-path was suspect. As such, from being a pass, the place had become a trap. Tonight the trap would be set – so much I had heard with my ears. But I had not the slightest doubt that now it would be set every night, so long as we were at large.

Now since the front door of the mansion was full in their view, my chance of using that entrance was plainly dead, but, as I went by, I had seen a door in the cloister and, hoping that this might be open, I hastened back.

The door was open and led me into a passage, which served three doors. On the walls were glass cases in which hung harness and bits, and two fine old ‘watchman’s’ chairs were standing at either end.

Leaning against the wall between two of the doors was a handsome peasant-girl – at least, so her habit declared her, but her face was fine and gentle and her figure was slight, and both of them argued some sire that had never set hand to a plough. Her brown legs and feet were bare, and her dress was of fair, white linen such as they wear in those parts. A sleeveless scarlet jacket suited her very well.

Finger to lip, she regarded me.

Something touched my knee, and I looked down to see the wolf-hound that had been the Prince’s dog.

As I gave him my hand to lick—

‘You must be Chandos,’ said the girl, with a pleasant smile.

‘Yes,’ said I. ‘That’s my name.’

‘Ah,’ says she. ‘I was to tell you that those you seek have gone on. Tonight they will take the road that is under water. They trust you will join them there.’

I stared at her dumbly.

‘The road that is under water’ could mean but one thing – the way beneath the fall which Ramon the smith had shown us five days ago.

‘Where are they?’ I said at length. ‘Which way did they go?’

The girl shook her lovely head.

‘I do not know. I met them down in the greenwood a mile away. I was bringing a telegram. I am waiting now for the tip which they always give.’

‘“Always”?’ said I. ‘Do they have many telegrams here?’

‘Two a day lately,’ she said. ‘I have waited for nearly an hour.’

I took out a fifty-crown note.

‘There is your tip.’

The girl’s eyes widened.

‘Oh, sir, this is fifty crowns.’

‘For your pretty face,’ said I, and opened the door. ‘I’ll tell Major Grieg I paid you. And please tell no one of having seen me or my friends.’

She shot me a curious look.

‘Is that why you gave me the money?’

‘No,’ said I. ‘I told you I gave you that for your pretty face. Did the telegram come from Littai?’

‘Yes,’ said the girl lightly. ‘They all come from there.’ With a foot on the threshold she paused. ‘Will it please you to kiss me?’ she said.

As a man in a dream, I kissed her, and watched her move like a deer across the sward.

Half way over she turned to wave a bare arm.

I waved back dazedly.

For some moments I stood in the passage, staring at a case full of harness which many museums would have been glad to display. Then I pulled myself together and stepped to the door on my left.

As I had half expected, this opened into the hall we had entered the night before. There was the grand staircase and there the front door of the house, as well as three other doors, admitting, no doubt, to rooms: and, though it was just possible that Grieg would not enter from the drive, the place was so much of a junction that anyone using the house would be certain sooner or later to come by this way.

I, therefore, took up a position beneath the spring of the staircase, by the side of a tall oak press, and made up my mind to attack, the instant Grieg showed his face.

Whilst I was waiting, I sought to consult with myself, but, though I did not feel tired, I think that my brain was weary, for I could not digest the matter which I had learned, and my thoughts kept returning to Littai and the horrid peril to which my wife was to come.

At last I beat out some conclusions, and I think they were more or less just.

In order to obtain his freedom, Grieg had taken conjecture and dressed it up as a fact. He had reason to think we should take the bridle-path, and take it as soon as we could. If he was well served at Littai, he might have reason to think that my wife was going to move. He had drawn a bow at a venture in all that he said: and tonight he would picket the path, to see whether in fact his shaft would bring anything down: and if it did not, he would himself leave the country by the bypass the smugglers used.

Now with Grieg’s death – and that I hoped would occur at any moment – the danger would not disappear, for I could not forget the intentness with which the police had been listening to what he said and I had no doubt whatever that, though Grieg himself might fail them, from this night on an ambush was to be laid between the waterfall and the mouth of the bridle-path.

When, therefore, he was dead, we must somehow find George and the Countess and stay their attempt, and when that was done, I must contrive to cross the water in case by some shocking chance Leonie verily meant to attempt to come in that way.

Now when ten minutes had passed, but Grieg had not come, I began to wonder what he was doing, for I was almost certain that when the girl was crossing the sward, I heard the sound of a car. If I was right in this, the police had been gone very nearly a quarter of an hour. Yet Grieg had not come.

It occurred to me suddenly that something might have impelled him to visit his car.

At once I saw that this explanation was good.

Grieg had gone to his car, to bring it up to the house, and was trying to start the engine and wasting his time.

The conclusion did me a world of good, for if it was sound – and of that I had little doubt – Grieg would be playing clean into Rowley’s hands. Any moment now the latter would take Grieg’s life, and I should be spared a business which as like as not I should bungle – although I must confess I did not dread it as I had when I thought the man helpless as any sheep.

I began to strain my ears for the sound of the shot…

I have always found inaction the hardest of all things to endure, and when ten minutes more had gone by, my impatience began to obtain the upper hand.

If Grieg was not coming, I was wasting valuable time. I could hardly believe that he did not mean to return, but since no shot had been fired, his absence began to argue that he was taking some action of which I should know. I was out of touch with Rowley, who would not dare come to fetch me because I had bade him stay. By leaving the house I should not be yielding ground, for I could always return by the cloister door.

With suchlike rubbish I cheated my common sense and so committed a folly for which I have no excuse.

I stole to the door which had brought me into the hall and let myself into the passage from which I had come. Thence I passed into the cloister and, after glancing about me, across the girdle of turf.

As I did so, my heart smote me, for I knew very well that I ought to have stayed in the hall. Rowley was there to watch the outside of the house and would, if he could, stalk Grieg and shoot him down; but if, before he could do so, Grieg should withdraw to the house, he would count upon my being there to deal with the man.

On the edge of the wood I paused, uncertain whether or no to retrace my steps. And whilst I was hesitating, a shot rang out.

I listened to the echoes fading with a hammering heart.

Rowley had done the business and saved my face.

Now if I had stopped to think, I should have made straight for the point at which the shot had been fired, for now there was no longer any reason for avoiding the girdle of turf; but because I had grown so accustomed to keeping myself out of view, without thinking I held to the woods, alternately running and walking as fast as I could.

It was therefore ten minutes or so before between the trees I made out the shape of Grieg’s car.

‘Rowley, where are you?’ I cried, something out of breath.

A screech answered me.

‘
Down for your life, sir!
’

With the words came the roar of a pistol and bullet went by my ear.

No dead man ever fell flat so quickly as I, or ever lay more still. Indeed, I frankly confess that I feigned myself dead, for for all I knew I was fully exposed to Grieg’s eye, and all my hope of safety was in convincing the man that his shot had gone home. Since Grieg was no simpleton, this hope was excessively thin, and I should have made ready to die had I not been absorbed in remarking the beauty of life.

I was now in a kind of danger which I had never known.

It was not so much that I was helpless, as that I dared not run the risk of helping myself. Grieg might be unable to see me: I might be in a position to bring him down. But because I had no means of knowing whether or no I was exposed, my hands and my eyes and my wits were as useless to me as the buttons upon my coat. I knew that the wood was not open, that here and there were patches of undergrowth: and though these were thin and straggling and would have been rejected as cover by any patrol, if I had fallen behind one it would have served my need. But whether I was behind one I did not know: and in case I was not behind one I dared not look.

That is an account of my condition. My state of mind began and ended with fear. The impression that Grieg could see me was painfully strong, and I am ashamed to say that I solemnly debated my chances of hearing the fatal shot.

Two things only I knew. The first was that Rowley was a little way off to my right, and the second that Grieg must be somewhere directly ahead, quite close to the car. So much my ears had told me. Whether they were standing or lying I had not the faintest idea.

I, then, lay as I had fallen, flat on my chest, with my right cheek pressed tight against the earth and my left eye upon a small spider that seemed very much concerned.

I shall never forget the silence which now prevailed.

It was not the silence of the night, for now and then a bird piped or fluttered, and the steady hum of insects was lading the soft, warm air; but the imminence of havoc lent it the air of a prelude the end of which might at any instant arrive. As such it was charged with a suspense which had I not borne it, I would have said could not be borne, and to this day I cannot pass without a shudder through any spinney which remembers that deadly scene.

I afterwards learned that Grieg was lying behind a wheel of the car and Rowley behind a tree-stump, with ten feet of ground around him as bare as his hand.

As I had expected, Grieg had come for the car, and Rowley had followed him softly, to take his life. To make quite sure of his prey, he had rightly taken his time. By the time he was in position, Grieg had grown sick of trying to start the engine and had opened the bonnet and was cursing and peering within. When he looked up from his business, there was Rowley on the opposite side of the car, pistol in hand. Before he could move, Rowley had fired at his forehead, but to his horror the pistol had failed to go off. To stand still, fumbling, was fatal, and Rowley had leaped for cover with all his might. Had Grieg stood his ground, he could hardly have missed his man: as it was, he fired under the car and the bullet went wide.

The result was a deadlock.

Grieg lay behind his wheel, and, twenty feet distant Rowley behind his stump, each of them waiting and watching for the other to move. And I lay a little apart, waiting and watching my spider and wondering dismally whether my hour was come.

We might, I suppose, have stayed where we were until dark. Indeed, I think we must have done so, had not a strange thing happened to cut our Gordian knot.

I became aware of some sound which was faintly disturbing the silence I found so hard to endure. It was half a rustle and half a medley of thuds, and, after a little, swelled into the movement of bodies and the patter of many feet. The next instant my nose declared the approach of a flock of goats.

Now goats are fearless and curious and like to inspect anything which they find unusual, in the hope, I suppose, of its proving fit to be eaten or containing some food: moreover, a wise goatherd will let them go much as they please, for if he allows them some licence, they will generally do his bidding without any fuss. I, therefore, hoped very hard that the way they were going would take them close to the car, for if once they espied its coachwork, I was sure they would not be content to pass it by. Since they were approaching from behind me, any such movement would be likely to screen me from Grieg and so would give me a chance of taking the cover of which my need was so sore.

So it fell out.

The smell grew stronger, and the sound of their coming more loud. Then a goat walked stiffly past me and another stopped to pluck at the edge of my cuff. An instant later the flock was thrusting like a wedge between me and the car.

In a flash I was up and darting between the trees…

I swung myself round a chestnut, to see Rowley running, bent double, for a bramble-bush on his right.

As he took up his new position, I swung myself on to a branch and so to a fork which made a natural embrasure commanding the car.

The first thing I saw was the goatherd, who was staring open-mouthed upon a tussock of grass. After a little he addressed it though I could not hear what he said. For a moment I thought him an idiot: then it dawned upon me that Grieg was behind the tussock and that the clown was asking him what he did there. An instant later Grieg lifted a furious head.

Comedy and tragedy sometimes go cheek by jowl.

I have never seen anything more ludicrous that Grieg’s rabid rejection of the goatherd’s ill-timed advances, unless it be the goatherd’s indignation at his repulse. So far from withdrawing, the latter protested with vigour against what no doubt he considered a breach of good taste, wagging his forefinger, as though reproving some urchin, and of course advertising Grieg’s presence with all his might. When his victim moved to a bush, he actually followed him up to conclude his harangue, till at last Grieg sprang to his feet, sent his tormentor sprawling, took to his heels and was instantly lost to view.

As I slid down from my perch, Rowley leaped up in pursuit, but caught his foot in a trailer which brought him down. By this time the goatherd was roaring like any bull, so that the sound of Grieg’s passage was utterly lost, and since to follow him blindly in such a place would have been worse than foolish, I shook my head at Rowley and turned the opposite way.

An instant later we crossed the drive that led to Vigil and entered the coppice beyond.

Now it was in my mind to make for the house. Then I saw that if Grieg did not follow, we should be as good as beleaguered until night fell. And so long we could not wait, because, whatever happened, we had to find the Countess and George. I, therefore, led the way to the point from which we had first that morning surveyed the house, for this made an excellent covert which we could leave unobserved whenever we pleased.

There Rowley told me his tale and displayed an affecting relief to find me alive and unhurt. Hearing me fall, he had made up his mind that I was dead, and the fact that I made no movement confirmed this belief. He inclined to the view that while I was on the ground I was out of Grieg’s sight, ‘for, sir,’ said he, ‘he’s not a man to take chances and, as for killing the wounded, why, he’d use them like stepping-stones if it saved his feet getting wet.’

‘He didn’t kill the goatherd,’ said I.

‘Because he wasn’t wasting a shot, sir. He’s only got three rounds left.’

As like as not he was right. Grieg was a hard man.

Here I should say that I dared not fire upon the fellow whilst I was up in the tree, as well for fear of hitting the goatherd as because of the hue and cry which the clown would have certainly raised if I had killed my man.

The time was now eleven o’clock, and we were both hungry and thirsty and very tired: so I bade Rowley sleep for an hour, whilst I kept watch, ‘and then,’ said I, ‘I’ll sleep for another hour. Unless we can lay Grieg’s ghost, we shall have to let the car go. And that means we must leg it – perhaps to the bridle-path.’

‘Very good, sir,’ said Rowley cheerfully.

Two minutes later he was sleeping like the dead.

I seemed to have slept for two minutes when Rowley laid a hand on my arm, but when he showed me my watch, it was one o’clock.

He had nothing at all to report, and, after a little discussion, we crawled out of sight of the mansion and started across the park. We bore south-east, for this was the line which the peasant-girl had taken and so, presumably, that of the Countess and George; but my hope of finding them was extremely faint and I was not at all sure that we should not do better to try to make certain of Grieg. I had, however, no stomach for scouring the wood, and such watch as we could keep on the mansion was simple enough to elude. Indeed, for all we knew, the man was already on his way to the bridle-path.