“Where are they fighting? Where are they fighting?” I asked in a hollow voice.
When Dolores recognised me she uttered a muffled exclamation and fled.
“Don’t move from here,” whispered the doctor, trembling like a child. “I’ll try to save you once more.... But be careful and be silent....” And he disappeared.
A thin door with ground-glass panels led from the large room, which contained the wounded soldiers, to the room in which I stood. I could not see anything, but I could hear groans and acute cries of pain. Moreover, I caught distinctly these words spoken in French with an English accent: “You weren’t there when the Huns tried to seize Mark six metres eighty-five.... It was a titanic struggle, I can tell you. They brought up heavy artillery.”
When the doctor came back to fetch me, I must have had a peculiar expression on my face, for he asked quickly in an anxious tone:
“Good heavens, what’s happened?”
“Nothing, doctor, nothing. But will you tell me where Mark six metres eighty-five is?”
At these words he flinched as if he had been shot, and a haggard look crept into his eyes. Staring at me wildly, he threw at me in a stifled voice:
“Unhappy man... Unhappy man. Will you hold your tongue. Above all, don’t repeat to the ‘middy’ what you’ve said to me... not even to him. Nor to anyone... anyone: Come... Follow me. That’ll be the best thing. The best thing for you will be to see nothing more and hear nothing more. Follow close on my heels without appearing to have any definite object.”
And so I left the place and the barracks; and so we stepped into the little electric train which had finished bringing in the wounded and took us to the other end of the island; and so I stood again on the cliff where, after leaving the under-water lift, I fell on my knees, and so I went down once more to the subterranean divers’ dressing-room.
“But where are you taking me?” I demanded as he came up to me with the apparel for walking under the sea with which, I considered, I had already sufficiently experimented.
“Well,” he whispered in my ear. “ Don’t be silly.
.. There are people about. I’m taking you to rejoin the Vengeance. And if you value your life, forget Mark six metres eighty-five.”
I wanted to utter a protest, but there was no time. Mederic Eristal had already placed the copper helmet over my head, and Lieutenant Smith, the Irishman, at that moment made his appearance in the divers’ room!...
I have retained but a very indistinct recollection of the painful moments which preceded my arrival on the ship. My “ return” to the diver’s dress, and to the lift, and then to the sea, and finally my resumption of my place among the prisoners, under the supervision, throughout, of the doctor, was like a bad dream; a dream which was still further prolonged by Mederic Eristal who gave me, as soon as I reached my little room in the Vengeance, a powerful narcotic from which I did not recover consciousness, I really believe, until the second day after my arrival.
CHAPTER XXXIII
AT ZEEBRUGGE
AT THIS POINT Monsieur Carolus Herbert’s papers are in some confusion, attributable, obviously, to the state of mind in which he was plunged by the failure of his attempt to escape. A few days later, however, he succeeded in getting away from the Vengeance in the remarkable auto-hydro-aeroplane which he has described. The flight was effected through the complicity of the “middy,” who concealed him in a tool-chest. The continuation of Monsieur Herbert’s memoirs enables the reader to comprehend the formidable character of the mission, as far as Admiral von Treischke was concerned, with which the officer and his men were entrusted.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“In Belgium,” replied the “middy.”
Stiff with cramp as I was, I leapt from my hiding-place like a Jack-in-the-box that springs out as soon as the lid is raised.
In Belgium. We were in Belgium... only a few miles from Luxemburg, almost at my doors. Was it really true!
The “middy” cut short my jubilations and demands for information.
“There’s not a moment to lose. Our other men have already set to work. Still I don’t think that they can get to Zeebrugge, even disguised as they are, for several hours. On the other hand, there’s no need for you to take any precaution. You can go straight to Bruges, which is not far from here, to the Governor’s residence, and ask to see Admiral von Treischke at once on a matter of life and death for him and his wife. That’s the best possible pass-word. Especially as the old ruffian must be anxious to receive news from his wife... Understand?”
“I understand. What ought I to say to him?”
“Everything and nothing. Everything that can save him and his wife, and nothing that can be unpleasant for us.”
The jovial “middy “had never spoken to me in such formal tones. That alone made me realise the gravity of the situation.
“One moment,” I said. “ I should very much like you to make clear...”
“I’ve no time to waste in talk.... However, let it be understood that you alone, my dear Monsieur Herbert, by your own unaided cleverness, slipped into this travelling tool-chest. Your object is to warn the Admiral to be on his guard. But over and above that, you must have sufficient powers of invention to prevent any unpleasantness happening to my men... Understand?”
“Yes, yes... I begin to...”
“Not a moment too soon! Whatever happens, no prisoners must be taken... eh?... Whatever happens. As a matter of fact, that will be the easiest part of your job, because it won’t be difficult for you to make the Admiral understand that if he lays hands on any of my men, it will be all over with Frau von Treischke. So if he values his wife’s life — and you may as well add the children’s lives as well — and wants to help you to save her, there’s only one course for him to follow. Let him hide himself.... Let him not be seen... Let him not be heard; at least for some time. The best thing that can happen will be for him to take the train, without saying a word to anybody, for an unknown destination.
.. And now good-bye and good luck, daddy! There’s your road, and Bruges is barely a mile away.”
And he pointed to an ascending path leading from the clearing in which the auto-hydro-aeroplane had alighted.
“We are in a private park,” he went on. “To find your way out, follow the wall until you reach the iron gate. Shout out ‘Hyx’ to the night-watchman, and he’ll let you pass.”
I turned once more and took his hand.
“Look after her... Do all you can for her,” I entreated him.
“Monsieur,” rapped out the “middy” impatiently, “you alone can save her. But you’ll be the death of her if you remain here another second.”
I was off almost before his words reached me. Five minutes later I passed through the gate without hindrance and was on the Bruges road which skirted the Ghent canal.
I reflected that some months previously, my dear old mother, as soon as the Huns entered Luxemburg, had taken refuge with her maid Gertrude in a convent in the city which was once so peaceful. But she was obliged to flee from the place, for it was dishonoured by a fierce soldiery for ever on the carouse in the expectation of battle and death. Afterwards, she received reassuring news from Renich where everything had remained in peace and quietness, and she thought it was better to return to her own fireside with Gertrude.
The last letter that I received from the old lady reached me in Madeira. She complained that she had not heard from me for some time. On account of the Huns, she found it necessary to write cautiously about the abominable tragedy which was desolating the world; and she imagined that I was far away from it. If she had only known! She would have died, I believe, from horror and anxiety. She was very fond of me.... But I fully expected to have the joy of taking her in my arms again, in a few days, and, sheltered from every danger henceforward, of telling her all that I had gone through before I was able to join her.
In the meantime, without losing a moment, I had to accomplish my fearsome task.
It must have been about five o’clock in the morning when I came up against my first challenge werda, “Who goes there?” and had to reply to the questions of the German picket. The sergeant-major at once took me to an officer who was stationed in a small shelter belonging to the lock-keeper at the junction of the canal from Bruges to Zeebrugge and that from Bruges to Ostend. The officer asked me to explain the uniform which I was wearing. I told him that I could only answer such a question in the presence of Admiral von Treischke himself, and that it was vitally important that I should see him without delay, for it was a matter of life and death for him and many other persons.
The officer telephoned to the Governor’s quarters, and then requested to see my papers. I had no papers. All my documents were lost in the sea at the time that I was holding on to a piece of wreckage and before I managed to cling to the deck of the Vengeance.
I informed him that I was a neutral from Luxemburg, and that the step I had taken in coming to him was a guarantee of my good faith. I was searched. No weapon of any sort was found on me. Next I was asked how and by what means I had reached the place and whence I came. I replied once more that I could say nothing until I was face to face with the Admiral.
At last I displayed such great impatience and excitement, declaring that every moment’s delay might bring about a terrible catastrophe, that, after the officer had again telephoned, I was taken to the Governor’s office.
I was conducted there between two guardsmen who kept their eyes fixed on me. They were told: “Look after this man. He’s probably mad.”
Bruges... Bruges... What have they done to you, Bruges-la-Morte? They have brought you to life again. Absolutely and with a vengeance!
Oh! the convents of Bruges... the Quay du Rosaire, the sacred peace of sleepy old streets... all brought to life again, to life again, to the sound of tramping... tramping from the first hour of dawn. And motor lorries and guns and ammunition waggons march through the echoing streets, with the least possible slowness.
But a truce to vain regrets. There is a time for everything. And this is not the moment to show oneself a sentimental dreamer.
At the Governor’s office I was brought before a captain who questioned me in a bullying manner and treated me as if I were an idiot.
But I at once told him with extreme coolness which in itself produced an excellent effect, that he would be the cause of the Admiral’s death and of many other incalculable tragedies. And I added: “I know that the Admiral is at Zeebrugge. Telephone to him and ask him to come here with one of his suite, or let him give orders for me to be taken to him without delay. Moreover, you may add that I am bringing him news of Frau von Treischke.”
After I made this statement, I folded my arms, and remained silent like a man who has done everything in his power to prevent a disaster, and has nothing more to say.
Five minutes later, which were like ages to me, the ill-mannered captain came back and informed me that I was to be taken by motor car to Zeebrugge. But I would have to be blindfolded, and if my behaviour concealed any evil intention “there will be time to shoot you before the end of the day,” he added. It was a delightful prospect for a neutral, you will agree. I allowed myself to be blindfolded by a sergeant-major, who, in the meantime, had come into the room. He hurried me outside, holding me by the sleeve.
I could not help thinking that they might have waited to blindfold me until I was in the car, but these people apply themselves like brutes to the letter of instructions which they imperfectly understand. However, I was in the car, and I had the sensation that we were being driven at a smart pace. The journey did not last long.
But what did last long was the waiting in a small cell — it was like a prison cell — in which I was confined after the bandage was removed from my eyes, without the least explanation being given to me.
I remained in the cell for hours.
I shall not attempt to describe my state of mind, my impotent rage, my despair, as I thought of what would inevitably happen if the Irishman seized the Admiral. It is enough to say that I passed through a paroxysm of all these feelings when, at last, the door was opened.
A young naval lieutenant entered. He quietly took a revolver from his pocket, placed it on a shelf within reach, sat down on a stool and said:
“We are alone. Nobody can hear you. You’ve got to tell me what you refused to tell the others, and what you wanted to say to Admiral von Treischke.”
“It’s impossible... impossible,” I said. “Haven’t you informed the Admiral that I am bringing him news of his wife!”
“Who are you?” asked the officer, fixing me with a glance, suspiciously.
“Well, Monsieur, I come from Renich in Luxemburg, and I’ve known Frau von Treischke since I was a boy.”
“Nonsense,” he exclaimed. “Are you not...”
“I am Carolus Herbert... that’s all.”
“Carolus Herbert... Carolus Herbert of Renich. You are Carolus Herbert of Renich!” cried the officer as if he had suddenly taken leave of his senses. “ I say, say...” And he disappeared, taking his revolver with him.
I was still in a state of amazement at the officer’s excitement on hearing my name, when he returned.
“Monsieur,” he said, “I am going to take you to the Admiral. I shall take you myself. You will have to be blindfolded again. Don’t ask any questions, and don’t speak to any one.”
Once more I am in a car. At last I shall see the Admiral and I am hoping that I may not arrive too late.... The engine is throbbing, the naval lieutenant is seated by my side, and I hear him give his orders.... Now we have started. Where are we bound for? I imagined that we should be at our journey’s end in a few minutes, but we tear along for more than an hour. I dare to question the officer. And he replies that we shall not arrive before the evening.
“In that case,” I said, “ the Admiral is not at Zeebrugge.”
“No,” he replied.
“That’s good. The farther he is from Zeebrugge the better it will be.... Now, Monsieur, I have one question to ask you. Does any one know that you and I are going to meet the Admiral?”
“No, Monsieur Herbert, no one knows it, and every one believes that the Admiral is at Zeebrugge.”
“That’s good news, Monsieur, and it entirely sets my mind at rest.... Consequently, I venture to make a slight request. I have eaten nothing for a good many hours, and if it would not inconvenience you to get me a little something...”
He at once handed me some sandwiches with which he was provided, and we continued our way until the evening, stopping only to exchange pass-words and to receive orders.
At nightfall I was allowed to remove the bandage from my eyes, and to my utter amazement I observed that we were in Luxemburg.... What did it mean?
In the heart of Gutland... the heart of Gutland. Here were the last houses of Meingen, and we were making for Mondorf, while, in the distance, standing out in the twilight, were the hillocks behind which lay the Moselle... and Renich.
And Renich... home of my childhood and of my love... and of my sorrow. The home where my mother was expecting me... or rather where she was not expecting me. But what are we going to do at Renich?
And here are the first houses of my dear Renich with their old masonry wrinkled like the faces of grandams. Here is my mother’s house with its creepers entwining the leaden casements. Here is the stone entrance trodden by generations of my ancestors, for I belong to an old family. And here is the heavy gateway and its resounding knocker.
CHAPTER XXXIV
GOOD PIPING-HOT LEEK SOUP
THE CAR STOPPED.
“Monsieur,” said the officer, “you are home. I know that your mother will be most delighted to see you again. Don’t trouble about anything but your meeting with her.”
I was so dazed by the turn of events that I remained standing there without the power of reply.
The car moved off.
“Upon my word,” I exclaimed, when I had re
covered my speech, “this will need a bit of explaining.”
With trembling knees and my whole being quivering with joy I laid hold of the knocker of the old house and lifted it three times.
It was Gertrude, the maid, who came to the door. I scarcely had the time to catch sight of her cap when she uttered a cry, dropped her lantern, and ran off like a mad woman. I picked up the lantern, the glass of which was broken, but which was not extinguished, and closing the door behind me, ran after her, swearing that I was not a ghost but the living me.
But she did not even turn round, and after crossing the courtyard, literally threw herself into the diningroom. As I entered it almost simultaneously, I saw my mother, and she, too, began to cry out and to lift up her arms.
I recognised on the table, in front of my mother, who was already seated for the evening meal, the good old earthenware floral-patterned soup tureen from which I had so often been served with leek soup, of which I am very fond. The soup was piping hot and gave forth a most appetising odour. But the misery of it! How sweet and refreshing for body and soul alike the hour of my return should have been! I thought my mother had risen and was stretching out her arms to me in welcome. But no. Leaving the table and the soup tureen she drew back to the wall, and seemed to repel me with a supplicating gesture as if I were some dreaded apparition.
“What is it?” I exclaimed. “ Don’t you recognise me?”
“You, my son... you!” she cried. “Unhappy boy, why are you here? Who brought you here for your undoing and, alas, for your punishment. Go... Go... Don’t waste an instant. Don’t remain another instant under this roof. Fear the revenge of him whom you have wronged.”
At first, on hearing these words, and seeing this unexpected display, and meeting with this reception so little in accord with what I had anticipated, I stood still, in sheer amazement. At last, when Gertrude herself began to squall, as the French say, and to try to drag me by force out of the house, without allowing me time to give my mother a kiss, I cried out in a tone of the greatest consternation:
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 358