Fire Below Read online

  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 hig
h-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–’

  She stopped there, shaking terribly, with both her hands to her mouth and her eyes so like those of a madman that my hair seemed to rise upon my head.

  It was shocking to see her so moved, and I was truly thankful when George’s arms went about her and he caught her hands to his breast.

  ‘Marya, darling, we’re safe. We’ve come to take you away.’

  She continued to tremble, like a man sick of the palsy, and making George seem to tremble because she was in his arms.

  ‘Away?’ she whispered. ‘You can’t.’

  George nodded cheerfully.

  ‘The car’s waiting, sweet. There’s no one to stop us now.’

  ‘No one?’ She looked round fearfully and again her eyes fell upon my gyves. ‘Why is Richard wearing those things? Carol swore–’

  ‘Did you think we would leave you, Marya? When we found that you weren’t at Bariche, of course we came back: and Bill got caught on the way, but they lost their grip. And now get a coat, my beauty, we mustn’t waste time.’

  Marya stopped shaking, disengaged her hands and put them up to her eyes. When she spoke again, though she seemed to speak with an effort, her voice was calm.

  ‘You must go without me,’ she said. ‘Where – where is Grieg?’

  ‘Without you?’ cried George. ‘Without you? But we came back to get you, Marya. We–’

  ‘George, dear, don’t make it worse. I say you must go without me, and I mean what I say.’ With a sudden movement she turned and took his face in her hands. ‘Do you love me, George?’ she whispered, and seeing, I suppose, his answer in the light of his eyes, she drew his head down to hers and kissed his lips.

  For a moment they clung together. Then very gently Marya put him aside.

  ‘I can’t come,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve passed my word.’

  ‘To Grieg?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Grieg is disgraced – broken. If he’s found, he’ll be arrested. His only chance is to leave the country at once.’

  Marya stood very still.

  ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘it’s to my interest to stay. You see, Grieg is my husband. We were married here in the chapel at eight o’clock.’

  5: Cold Blood

  I remember thinking that George would never move.

  He stood like a man that has seen some Gorgon’s head and has in the act of vision been turned to stone. His lips were parted, and one of his hands was half way up to his head, and the dust with which his features were powdered gave him the look of a being that was not of flesh and blood.

  Then I saw his chin go up, and I turned to the door.

  A moment later I was descending the stairs.

  One thing had to be done, and done at once.

  Marya’s ship was afire. It was no good her winning her action if she was to be consumed. The fire must be put out at once – before it could spread.

  So I went out to do murder, if you can call it such.

  George, of course, could do nothing. For if he was to play the hangman, he could hardly expect to marry the widow that he had made. Any woman must have recoiled from so grisly a bed.

  Now I was so bent upon my purpose that I forgot my handcuffs until I slipped on the stairs and sought to stretch out a hand to lay hold of the banisters. At once my embarrassment hit me between the eyes. Unless I was to kill Grieg as one kills a pig, before I did anything else I must free my wrists.

  What the old servant imagined I cannot tell; but I think the events of that night had disordered his failing wits. When I told him to draw the bolts and open the door, he only gaped at my gyves, and when Rowley had done the business and I bade the poor man make fast and open again to no one without first advising George, he began to speak of his sister, recalling the day of her wedding and the flowers she had worn in her hair.

  The next moment I was seated by Rowley, and the car was flying along the thin, white road.

  I am not given to imagining vain things, but fancies crowded about me during that drive. The hour was ghostly: neither day nor night could have claimed it, and the sleeping world was abused by its treacherous light. Nature herself seemed aware of my dreadful errand. The country I knew for handsome was a stage of tricksy shadows and looming shapes: when we stopped by a bridge for an instant, the suck of a neighbouring sluice sounded so monstrous that I was glad to be gone: and more than once I could have sworn to the beat of wings upon the air. The seats behind were empty, yet I had a horrid feeling that we were not alone, but that something was riding with us and sitting where Grieg had sat. All the time Grieg danced before me in a hundred postures of death. Now he was flat upon his back, with his black eyes wide and empty, regarding the sky: now his bulk was huddled, like that of some friendless wretch that is cold in his sleep: and once he lay as I have seen a dead man, sprawling against a bank like any puppet, with his head fallen sideways and a puzzled stare upon his face.

  As I have said, I could not play the butcher, so Rowley drove me to Gola, and, whilst he was going about, Ramon the smith came down and set me free. Though he begged me to let him do it, I would not wait for him to cut off the cuffs themselves, but when he had severed the chain that held the two together, I shook his hand and left him, with a bracelet on either wrist.

  The dawn was near now: colour was creeping into the woods and meadows, and distance beginning to take her lawful form. In a little while we should have no need of our headlights, and in less than an hour the sun would be over the mountains and making the valleys glad. But not for Grieg. He would not see the dayspring for which he was wishing so hard.

  I was driving now and I think that I frightened Rowley, so high was our speed. My one idea was to have done with the business, for Grieg was haunting me now as I was very sure his ghost would never haunt me when once he was dead.

  At last we flashed through the village a mile or so from which we had left him lashed to the post, and, since I could not be sure of his exact position, I slackened speed.

  ‘Not yet, sir,’ said Rowley, peering.

  ‘It was dark,’ said I. ‘I can’t be sure to a mile.’

  ‘I shall know it, sir,’ said Rowley. ‘It’s a furlong beyond some crossroads and round a bend.’

  ‘Watch for the crossroads,’ said I.

  It seemed an age before I heard him cry out.

  As I set my foot on the brake, I saw the crossroads ahead.

  I overran them slowly and brought the car to rest.

  ‘Are you sure you’re right?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he stretched out an arm. ‘It’s round that bend we left him. There’s a pile of stones by the gate.’

  I stepped down into the road.

  ‘Stay here,’ I said. ‘Turn the car and stay here. If you hear a shot, don’t worry. I shan’t be long.’

  For a moment the man did not answer. Then—

  ‘Very good sir,’ he said quietly.

  Before I had taken ten paces I heard him turning the car.

  As I went, I tried to determine the course I should take.

  I must free the man, of course. That went without saying. And when the man was free, I must give him some law. If he did not run, I must stand back the width of the road. If…

  Here I perceived with a shock that I could do nothing of the kind. For Marya’s sake the man had to be destroyed. That he deserved to die was beside the point. A millstone had been hanged about the Countess’ neck, and nothing but Grieg’s decease could take it away. That it was he that had ha
nged it there made his death just: but had he made her marry a swineherd, the clown would have had to die. I was not there to punish Grieg. I was there to free the Countess from her most dreadful plight.

  It seemed that after all I must play the butcher, and, as once before that morning, my stomach turned at the thought.

  I could see the stones now – a low barrow of metalling, ready to mend the road. It occurred to me that that was his gravestone. A ditch lay behind the barrow. There I must lay the body and cover it thick with stones from the pile to hand.

  I went on with dragging feet and my eyes on the ground.

  I decided to tell him the truth and give him two minutes in which to prepare for death. After that I would shoot him through the head. After all, there was no cause for compunction. The man was worthy of death.

  I raised my eyes to see an empty gate-post, some twenty paces ahead.

  For an instant relief came flooding. Then I perceived that Rowley had made a mistake. A hundred yards further on was another bend in the road, and just at the turning another grey barrow of stone…

  As I moved forward, I trod on a piece of cord.

  I picked it up, staring.

  More cord was dangling by the gatepost, caught by the latch of the gate. I found there were three short lengths, the edges of which were clean cut.

  I do not think I should have been human, if I had not been honestly thankful to find that my prey was gone. But even while I stood frowning, twisting the cord in my hands and blessing the early riser that had put such a spoke in my wheel, I heard the sound of a car being hastily started from rest.

  In a flash I had leaped to the bend, to see the car reach the crossroads and fling up the broad, black road down which we had come.

  And two hundred yards away lay a figure in a white dust-coat, half on and half off the grass.

  The sun was up before Rowley opened his eyes.

  I had carried him over a meadow and down to a little brook, and but for the fresh, cold water I think that he would have lain senseless another hour.

  I do not know which was the stouter, his heart or his head, for, though on the back of the latter there was an ugly swelling the size of a pocket-watch, he had hardly recovered his senses, before he was up on his feet.