Fire Below Page 9

  ‘Depend on it, sir: we shall leave the instant you’re gone.’

  We passed to the head of the steps and stood waiting for Grieg…

  The man came treading with the violence he always used. He thrust from the doorway and down to the waiting car.

  With his hand on its door, he paused. Then he turned back to the steps and spoke to the police.

  ‘Where is the car you came in?’

  The sergeant pointed to lights on the opposite side of the way.

  ‘Your work is done here,’ said Grieg. He stepped up and seized my arm. ‘Get back to the jail at Vigil and say that I’m coming on.’

  The sergeant stared.

  ‘To the jail?’

  ‘To the jail,’ said Grieg fiercely. ‘At once. Tell them to have a cell ready and warn the guard.’

  The sergeant spoke with his fellow and turned to the hall.

  ‘Where are you going?’ barked Grieg.

  ‘To fetch our hats. They are in the inspector’s room.’

  With that, he was gone, while his fellow ran for their car.

  I confess that here my heart sank down to my boots. Grieg’s order could have but one meaning – that he did not want the detectives behind him upon the road. Such provision was ominous.

  I knew, of course, that the sergeant would pick up my statement and take it to Vigil with him. But Grieg’s disgrace and ruin seemed suddenly trifling gains to set against the loss of my life. I certainly had my pistol, but, now that I was handcuffed, I could not reach it without such an awkward movement as even a child must remark. I began to wonder dully how Grieg would go to work… As for Madame Dresden, I must acknowledge with shame that she and her fortunes never came into my head.

  Here the car drew out, and the sergeant emerged from the hall. Hat in hand, he was plainly about to speak.

  ‘Get on,’ said Grieg roughly.

  The other pursed his lips and went down without a word.

  Then a door slammed, and the car began to storm up the street…

  As its snarl faded, Grieg thrust me down the steps and up to the cabriolet.

  ‘To Vigil,’ he snapped. ‘Headquarters.’

  The chauffeur inclined his head.

  Without releasing my arm. Grieg opened the door and stepped in. I followed as best I could, and the door was shut.

  We jolted out of Sallust and on to a country road. As the car gathered speed, Grieg picked up the speaking-tube.

  ‘Half speed,’ he said. ‘Don’t go more than twenty until I say.’

  As the car slowed down, I saw him glance at his wrist.

  ‘No point in overtaking them,’ he said softly. ‘And now, my friend, I’ll trouble you for that bill.’

  The sudden, natural demand took me aback. I should, of course, have foreseen it and been ready with some excuse, but, as I have said, I was thinking of other things. Had the police been further ahead, I would have cheerfully answered that they had both bill and statement for, though his rage would have been shocking, he would at once have seen that he would have nothing to gain by taking my life, but something to lose, for if he delivered me safe, that would be a rebutter to my statement which might be mistrusted, but could not well be ignored. As things were, however, I dared not tell them the truth, for his was the faster car and could have outrun the detectives’ before that had gone halfway.

  ‘Come on,’ said Grieg roughly.

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Today to you,’ said I, and made a movement to put my hand into the pocket furthest from him.

  Grieg laughed – and let go my arm.

  ‘Today,’ he said, ‘and tomorrow, and the day after that.’

  As he put out his hand for the paper, I jammed the mouth of my pistol against his ribs.

  ‘Not even today,’ I said thickly.

  Grieg sat like a thing of stone, not seeming to breathe.

  ‘Raise your hands,’ said I, ‘and take hold of the lapels of your coat. I advise you to move very gently, for the safety catch is up, and you know how these things go off.’

  Very slowly he did as I said.

  I could not take his pistol, for the man was left-handed and carried his arms on his left: and, since I sat on his right, because of my handcuffs I could not reach so far. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to stay as I was, for I knew that the man was fearless and was waiting to turn the tables if I gave him the ghost of a chance.

  As though he could read my thoughts—

  ‘Stalemate,’ said Grieg quietly.

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ said I. ‘If I have to kill you, I shall – as you would have killed me. You know as well as I do, you meant to shut my mouth. “Shot whilst attempting to escape.” …And now I’ll tell you something. This pistol was taken from me when I was caught: but when I had told my story and they heard your voice in the hall, they knew you were out for murder and let me take it back.’

  The fellow shifted a little, but spoke no word.

  ‘And I’ll tell you another thing. I’d put my statement in writing, before you came. It was on the inspector’s table under the blotting-pad. The bill from Bariche was with it – I pinned it on myself. And when the detective-sergeant went back for his hat–’

  I felt him repress a start.

  ‘That’s right,’ said I. ‘He got it. He’d promised to take it straight to the Chief of Police. Not tomorrow morning – tonight. The instant he got to Vigil. And then you very kindly sent him ahead.’

  There was a long silence.

  Suddenly—

  ‘This won’t help you,’ said Grieg.

  ‘It’ll help the Countess,’ said I.

  ‘I see,’ said Grieg. ‘Did you read the letter she wrote?’

  ‘I did,’ said I. ‘But I don’t come in on deals of that sort.’

  The man said nothing.

  The car proceeded slowly, and I sat watching his hands and racking my brain.

  We were bound for ‘Headquarters, Vigil.’ Unless I could make some move before we arrived, my race was as good as run. That Grieg’s race was undoubtedly run afforded me great satisfaction, but it was galling to reflect that, having got so far, I could not go one step further and save myself.

  I could, of course, have bade him order the chauffeur to drive elsewhere; but, had I done so, I should have wasted my breath. The fellow would have laughed in my face. He knew that I would kill him if he moved or cried out: and so he did neither. But force his hand I could not – he was not that kind of man.

  But for my handcuffs, I could have taken the trick. As it was, I could not disarm him; and, so long as he had his pistol, I dared not lose sight of his hands for one moment of time. If I was to keep him covered, I could not even open the door. In a word, I was a one-armed man. As such, it seemed painfully clear that I had shot my bolt.

  Suddenly the brakes were applied, and the car came to rest.

  Not daring to turn my head, I strained my ears.

  I heard a door open and one of the police descend. He shut the door behind him and walked ahead…

  The next moment a windlass creaked.

  We had come to a level crossing, and, since there was no keeper, the man was raising the bars.

  The creaking stopped, and I heard the man walk on to the further bar.

  I had expected to hear the further windlass, but, though my ears were pricked, I could hear no sound but the steady mutter of the engine and the hurried slam of my heart.

  So for perhaps two minutes. Then the second policeman alighted and followed the first.

  As I heard his footfalls retreating, I knew that this was my chance to leave the car, but the moment I moved I saw Grieg’s left hand quiver and, inwardly raging, I held my pistol still.

  ‘Stalemate,’ said Grieg. ‘I told you. You’re — well stuck.’

  Then the second windlass creaked, and almost at once the returning driver’s footfalls made themselves heard.

  My chance had passed.

  The driver resumed his
seat and drove the car over the rails.

  I had expected that, once across, we should wait till the bars were let down, but, whilst we were moving, the second man stepped aboard, and a moment later we were again under way.

  As though to crown my discomfiture, it became immediately clear that the check had put Grieg’s injunction out of the driver’s mind, for, instead of proceeding slowly, we now began to go like the wind, and the chance of overtaking the detectives once more lifted its head.

  Grieg was laughing softly, and the blood came into my face.

  I could, of course, have shot him, and that would have left me free to deal with his men; but, though I knew that he would have done it to me, I could not bring myself to take the man’s life in cold blood.

  So I sat, pressed against him, staring at the white of his hands and wondering what I had done that Fortune should have me in such manifest derision.

  We had covered another ten miles, or so I judged, when again the car slowed down and came to rest.

  This was natural, for, as I have often observed, where a road follows a railway, they cross again and again.

  Dully I waited for one of the police to descend…

  Then both of the doors were opened – the doors, I mean, that served the back of the car – and a torch blazed over my shoulder to light Grieg’s face.

  George Hanbury was speaking.

  ‘Don’t move a muscle, Grieg. I’ve got you cold.’

  Though we did not then waste time by telling one another our tales, I think it will here be convenient to show how George came to be there and to strike, like a man in a play, when my need was most sore. And since his style is far more lively than mine, I will do my best to recapture his very words.

  ‘When Rowley told me you were taken, that sinking feeling I’d heard of became an accomplished fact. The illusion of stomachic subsidence was quite startling. I actually felt myself to make sure there was no protrusion which hadn’t been there before. Then we joined the crowd to see what we could. This wasn’t much, until you came off the bridge. We were up on some steps by then, and we saw you go by.

  ‘Well, we clung to the side of the crowd and hoped against hope. But the further you went, as you know, the bigger it grew. It was then that I thought of a distraction. The crowd must be distracted. The trouble was that it mustn’t be attracted to me. Whilst I was flogging my brains, I fouled a dustbin… I think the pain gave me strength. I emptied it out, of course. Even void, it was heavy enough. I was sorry about the victims of the prospective outrage, but I daresay they deserved it, and any way the rain falls ‘on the just and on the unjust.’ The only fear I had was of hitting you. When it was over and I saw you standing still behind the worry, I could have yelled with delight. The distraction was a hard fact: the vultures had a new carcase – to judge from the squeals, two or three. Once you were clear of the press… Then the police reinforcements arrived and tore my dream.

  ‘Act Two. We followed you to the station and watched you in. For a long time I considered a frontal attack: and I’m not sure now that we mightn’t have brought it off. Two strong men armed, you know. What frightened me off was the thought that you might be locked up in a cell. If you were, we were done – obviously. Shock tactics are all right, but you mustn’t meet any wire. I, therefore, withdrew in good order and tried very hard to foresee what the night would bring forth. The exercise was fruitful. I perceived at once that Sallust would telephone to Vigil and that Vigil would send detectives to bring you in. Very well. Your transfer from Sallust to Vigil would give us our chance. All Rowley and I had to do was to find a suitable place at which we could hold up the car.

  ‘The Sallust police favour the cycle. What’s more they keep their scooters in a rack by the side of the jail… The thing was too easy. Before choosing a mount, I asked the way to Vigil. Five minutes later we were pounding along the road. I suppose we’d done twelve miles, when a car which was coming from Vigil went by all out. The detectives, of course. Well, that was all right. We were between them and Vigil. All we had to do now was to pick a suitable place, shove some obstruction in the road and sit down and wait. We rode on peering. Of course no place presented itself. And no obstruction, except the trunk of a tree which weighed about twenty tons. I began to get uneasy. Then, three miles on we came to a bullock-cart. This was empty and standing to the side of the way…

  ‘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.