Safe Custody and Laughing Bacchante

by Dornford Yates

  “The watched pot never boils,” said Palin. “Let us perform our ablutions, to fill in the time.”

  We made what toilet we could, proposing, when that was done, to see about preparing some breakfast without the aid of a fire, for if any smoke went up, Harris would guess in an instant that we were at home. To our delight, in the kitchen we found an electric stove and had started to heat some water to take to Olivia’s room, when the lady appeared amongst us, looking so fresh and dainty that I, for one, felt the more ashamed of an appearance which soap and water had done little enough to correct.

  We had just told her what had happened and how we hoped that Harris would play into our hands, when Stiven came running from the gatehouse to say that the rogues had actually taken the plunge and had started down the mountain, to reach the valley below.

  “Good,” said Hubert. “Now you go to the ramparts and watch them from there. On no account show yourself. They’ll pass in and out of your sight, but do what you can to time them, for what I want to know is the progress they make. By the way, have they moved that car?”

  “No, sir,” said Stiven. “It’s just as it was when you went.”

  “All right.”

  As Stiven left for the ramparts, Hubert turned to Palin and me.

  “We must bring that car in,” he said. “It’s a risk, but we must take it. You saw where Bugle stopped it—bung in the middle of the road. If the chauffeur arrives, he won’t be able to pass, and ten to one he’ll start in sounding his horn. He’ll know who the car belongs to, and his idea will be to summon Bugle and make him put it out of the way. I’ll let down the drawbridge and, John, you must bring her in. Keep as far from the edge as you can. Andrew will watch from one of the gatehouse towers.”

  “If I were you,” said Olivia, “I should leave the drawbridge down and let my uncle’s chauffeur come in. I mean, you must deal with him somehow: and if you can avoid violence—I don’t care, you know, but I think it would be as well.”

  “I entirely agree,” said Hubert, “but short of producing his master, what can we do?”

  “Conceal your presence,” said Olivia. “And that of Harris, as well. Put both your cars in the coach-house and shut the doors. And keep out of sight. When he drives in, I’ll appear and say that my uncle has gone and that he is to meet him at the cross roads this evening at six o’clock. His seeing me won’t matter, as my uncle knows that I’m here.”

  For the first time that morning I remembered the unfortunate truth, and the sudden recollection shocked me into a groan.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for forgetting your hat and gloves.”

  “He speaks for us all,” said Palin.

  “I forgot them myself,” said Olivia. “I never gave them a thought. It’s a pity, of course, because it means war to the knife. If they hadn’t known I was here, my uncles would have sat still. As long as you didn’t know the secret, it was very unlikely that you could do any harm. But now they’ll know that I’ve told you, and—well, it’s shortened your price.”

  There was a little silence.

  Then—

  “What will they do?” said Hubert.

  Olivia raised her eyebrows.

  “Put their money on Harris,” she said. “He’s ready to hand and he’s just the fellow they need to pull you down. I warn you,” she added, “Harris will be in demand. If you don’t take him this morning, they’ll take him this afternoon.”

  As I stood in the archway, waiting for the drawbridge to fall, I saw that unless we had servants, so far from finding the ‘vestments,’ we should have our work cut out to hold the castle itself. No less than three men were required to bring in that car without risk—the first to get her, the second to lower the drawbridge, and the third to advise the second that the road of approach was clear. Three men out of four and one girl. More. Hohenems might be impregnable, but we within had to live. We should have to obtain provisions and maintain the electric plant: meals must be cooked and served, rooms must be aired and ordered, and linen changed. Caretakers’ work, if you please, but even on active service these things are done. And Hohenems was no dug-out: indeed, as I afterwards found, the buildings enclosed or covered nearly four acres of soil. Even if we took Harris prisoner and so were relieved of the duty of keeping ward, our work would be terribly hampered by the absence of any staff. Moreover, we should have to play jailer—victual our captive and take him out for a walk. It occurred to me suddenly that Father Herman had yet to be watered and fed . . . and searched. . . .

  “John.”

  I turned to see Olivia, dish-cloth in hand.

  “Have you got your pistol this time?”

  I tapped my coat-pocket.

  “But I don’t think I’ll need it,” I said.

  “Well, don’t hang about,” said Olivia. “If Harris looked up and saw you, he might feel cross."

  Here the drawbridge began to move, and a moment later I was over the water and running along the road. . . .

  Had all our tasks been as easy as the taking of that car, this tale would have been a record of smooth success. Had Harris looked up, I doubt if he could have seen me, and he could not have heard the engine because he was moving between the two cascades, and though he was some way from either, their constant rush was sufficient to close his ears. Indeed, I was not gone two minutes, but was in the courtyard again before Hubert had made his way back from the windlass-room.

  Without more ado we put the two cars in a coach-house, as Olivia had advised—as it proved, in the nick of time, for as I was closing the doors, Stiven came pelting from the ramparts to say that the chauffeur from Haydn was on the road of approach. He had come by way of the kitchen and, happily, warned Olivia as he went by, for Hubert and he had hardly time to enter the harness-room before the chauffeur appeared.

  Olivia must have run like the wind, for as the man left his car, the front door was opened and she descended the steps. Thanks to her wit, he took his leave directly, and two minutes later we pulled the drawbridge up; but the incident served to ram home the poverty of our communications and how very short-handed we were, for had Stiven not left his post, Olivia would not have been ready and Hubert and I would fairly have met the chauffeur face to face, while, as for Palin, the first he knew of the matter was that the front door was open and Olivia was speaking German from the foot of the steps.

  We were now free to deal with Harris, of whom, of course, track had been lost, but though he was hid by the greenwood, from what Stiven said, we judged he was approaching the meadows and so might be expected within half an hour.

  We, therefore, unlocked the door of the room by the postern gate and set its window open, as it had been before. Then Father Herman was taken and locked in the stalls which stood beside the archway, for so he could not warn Harris by making a fuss. And there, I fancy, he breakfasted better than we, for though Olivia had cooked us some buttered eggs, we had no time to enjoy them, but snatched a few mouthfuls, standing, on our way to and fro.

  Now if Harris entered the castle, he could, on gaining the passage, turn either left or right. Each course would bring him to a stairway set in the wall. The eastern stair led up to the small square hall I have mentioned before, and the western to a much larger lobby from which there were six exits, two only of which could be shut. We, therefore, decided to lock the two doors which led out of the smaller hall, so that if Harris went that way, he would find it a blind alley and have no option but to retrace his steps. In other words, we should force him to make for the larger hall, and there we should be awaiting him, pistol in hand.

  This was all very well, so far as it went, but it seemed essential that someone should be on the ramparts, watching the postern steps. He could warn the others as soon as Harris approached the head of the flight and, what was still more important, once the rogues had entered the castle, he could cut off their retreat by firing across the window the moment a head reappeared.

  It was, therefore, arranged that I should do this duty, while
Hubert, Palin and Stiven commanded the larger hall. As from the smaller, a door from this hall opened upon the ramparts: this door we set ajar, and posted Olivia without it, to act as connecting file. I was to signal to her by raising my hand, and she would deliver my message to Hubert standing within.

  “But for God’s sake be careful,” said my cousin. “You ought to be able to see without being seen: but the rampart embrasures aren’t loop-holes like those in the gatehouse towers. And if one of them sees your face, the game will be up. You must watch, of course, or it’s no good you being there: but the instant you see any movement drop your head. From then on you must use your ears. I think you should hear them all right. But it can’t be helped if you don’t. Once they’re there you mustn’t show up any more.”

  I promised faithfully. Then the others left me and I crawled forward alone to the battlements. A moment later I was lying to the right of the postern, with my head fast against a merlon and one eye glued to the shadows which shrouded the descent from the postern some twenty steps down.

  And here, no doubt, such as read will see our fatal mistake.

  I was facing the sun and peering into what was as good as a grotto, so thick were the veils of foliage hanging over the steps: but the thieves were within the grotto, looking out upon the battlements lit with the morning sun.

  In our defence I may remember that except by night we had never set eyes on the place, and had had but slight means of judging the density of the wood.

  Be that as it may, exactly at a quarter past seven a bullet went by my ear, to flatten itself on the wall some two or three paces from where Olivia stood, and, though I am glad to think I returned the fire, I knew in that moment that we had missed a tide which would rise no more.

  Harris had seen and studied me, though I had never seen him: then, taking his time, he had done his best to kill me—a bold, but politic stroke, for while his retreat was assured, no one but Bunch and Bugle had seen him fire and no one but they could prove that he had so much as set foot on the postern steps.

  So we threw away the chance of a lifetime, for the bird was in the jaws of the net and, but for my appearance, must have been taken within a quarter of an hour. And then from now on the course of this tale would have been as smooth and easy as that of some sheltered river, stealing past water-meadows that yield to its slightest whim, instead of that of some rude and troubled water that fights its way through rugged, unkind country, the lie of which besets it, continually opposing its efforts to gain the sea.

  Our discussion of this fiasco was dismal and empty enough, but when I suggested a sally, Palin’s reply did much to open my eyes.

  “To go out and attack them would be to play into their hands. We shouldn’t stand an earthly, because they could see us coming while we shouldn’t know where they were. Do get this into your head. The moment Harris saw you, the whole position was changed. At that moment the thieves became the besiegers, and we became the besieged. And that position will continue until one side or the other throw’s in its hand. We are now besieged in Hohenems. The investment won’t be complete for, say, twenty-four hours, but this time to-morrow there’ll be a tree down across the road of approach. That will be very awkward, because it will mean that we cannot employ a car to fetch us supplies. To fell a fir-tree is nothing. But, once it’s down, how’ long will it take to remove it? And mark you this. Every man who goes near it will take his life in his hand. And that is where Harris will have us. He won’t need a chain of sentries around this place. One patrol is enough to keep us in—because we can’t see that patrol. It may be down in the valley: it may be beside the drive: it may be behind the coach-house. . . . But as Harris is shooting at sight, to bump into that patrol is a risk which we cannot take.”

  I well remember the silence which followed his words. We were standing in the larger hall, and the open door to the ramparts seemed to offer a prospect of half the world. Olivia was by the doorway, shading her eyes and gazing down the valley which seemed to be all green silver because of the dew: with his eyes upon Palin’s face, my cousin was standing, vigilant, at the head of the little stair: and Palin was standing between them, looking at me and frowning upon the truth he had told. Stiven was below, in the passage, watching the door of the room which gave to the postern steps.

  “Well, we’d better get a move on,” said Hubert. “We’ve got quite a lot to do.”

  “One moment,” said I. “Will Harris come back for that car?”

  “I think so,” said Palin. “He’ll know in his heart that it’s gone, but a car would be so useful that he’s bound to come back to make sure.”

  “Then let’s put it back and lay for him.”

  “Too risky,” said Hubert, shortly. “Bugle would take the car, while Bunch and Harris were covering all he did. That would mean a pitched battle: and we cannot fight a pitched battle with Harris armed. We shouldn’t have a look in.”

  “I agree,” said Palin. “Some people might say I was afraid. I prefer to say that I value my abdominal wall. There’s not much in it, really. And so to business. Father Herman has to be searched, and our things to be fetched from the inn: but, what is far more important, we’ve got to get hold of some servants before that tree goes down. We neither need nor want the whole of the staff. Half a dozen trusties would do us proud. But those we must have. That we could exist here without them, I don’t deny. But it wouldn’t be very amusing, and we couldn’t do anything else. I mean, this place is some villa. I’ll wager I’ve covered four miles since I got up. Oh, and what about food?”

  “We must find the steward,” said Hubert. “John must take the Rolls and drive to the inn, and you must take the small car and run the steward to ground. Stiven and I will deal with Father Herman and hold the fort.”

  “And I,” said Olivia, “must go. You won’t want to make two journeys, so John can drive me away,”

  Her words took us all aback. That she would now leave the castle had never entered my head.

  Before I had found my tongue—

  “Are you proposing,” said Palin, “to stay alone at that inn?”

  “I have my maid,” said Olivia.

  Palin expired.

  “I saw your uncle’s face when he noticed your hat and gloves. His expression was not reassuring. It was that of a malignant adder bereft of its young.”

  “He’d never dare touch me,” said Olivia.

  “Very likely not,” said Palin. “But Harris would.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” said Olivia. “I’m not worth powder and shot.”

  Palin shrugged his shoulders.

  “Have you ever heard of a hostage? Supposing you have your way and go back to the inn. And supposing on Friday morning Bugle appears at the gatehouse with one of your gloves . . .”

  There was a pregnant silence, which I found quick with alarm. The picture which Palin had presented was making my blood run cold.

  Then—

  “You imagine vain things,” said Olivia.

  “I call it ‘foreseeing the obvious.’ Never mind. Suppose the ‘vain thing’ should come off. What on earth could we do but surrender? Damn it, with you in their hands, we should have to jump at their terms.”

  Olivia stood very still, with a hand to her head.

  “I’ll go to Salzburg,” she said.

  “That might do,” said Palin, rubbing his nose,” All the same . . . I quite see your point, Olivia. But—well, Harris and your uncle together will make a pretty hot pair. And when I say ‘hot,’ I mean ‘smoking.’ If they got wind that you were outside these walls . . .”

  “We shan’t sleep if you are,” said I, and meant what I said.

  Olivia looked at me sharply.

  “And what of my name?” she said. She turned to Palin. “I suppose that’s what you mean when you say that you ‘see my point.’ I don’t blame the others so much, although I can hardly believe that England’s as lax as all that. But you know Austria. I broke a good many rules when I shared your inn: but at
least I hid my name, and it was a public hotel. But to stay with you here in this castle, for, possibly, two or three months. . . . You must be mad. I’m not very proud of my uncles, but Haydn’s a pretty big name. Yet if I did this, no peasant in all Carinthia would take off his hat as I passed. Instead, they’d spit on the ground. If I went to a farm and asked for a cup of cold water, the farmer would try to kiss me, and if his wife was there, she’d order me off the place.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  At length—

  “We must shutter that window,” said Hubert. “We’d better do it at once.”

  Chapter 8. A Matter of Form

  I think that day was the hardest I ever spent, for my mind was very much troubled, while my brain and my body were taxed as never before. What had to be done had to be done so quickly that I had to decide how to do it whilst I was actually engaged, and since I left the castle at half past eight and only once returned for a quarter of an hour, I had next to no chance of consulting with Hubert or Palin, still less of calling upon them if I were in need. All the time Harris loomed in the background, a cloud considerably bigger than any man’s hand, taking the shape of a dangerous beast at large and making the vicinage of the castle the very lair of danger, for Olivia sat by my side on the journeys I made.

  Indeed, as that morning I sailed down the road of approach, I saw more clearly than ever that after that night we must not attempt that way. The road was so narrow and curling that already I felt uneasy at every bend, and I started to rack my brain for some way of doing without it, yet not without its use.

  As though she could read my thoughts—

  “You can’t push trees down,” said Olivia. “The first thing Harris must do is to borrow an axe. And he won’t do that till this evening—remember, he’s short of a car."

  “And after this evening?” said I. “After this evening we shall be short of a car. What’s the good of a Rolls, if you can’t take it out? Don’t you think we’d be mad to let ourselves be shut in that castle, cut off from the world?”