by Ronald Seth
"Come out with your hands up!" one of them called out.
Nothing in the hedgerows around us made a sound.
As the men were standing, they were sitting targets for our own guns; but they had their backs to us, and I have a firm objection to shooting a man in the back, silly though it may sound when you know the man would have no hesitation in shooting you in the back if he had the chance.
I wondered when the professor would attack, but he seemed to be waiting too.
The man called out again: "Come out with your hands up!"
When again there was no reply, they spoke in low voices and began to move cautiously toward the car. But though I may object to shooting a man in the back, I see no point in letting him increase the range. So, taking the decision out of the professor's hands, I shot into the air.
The three men swung round to face us, raking the hedge behind us with bursts of automatic fire. Three shots rang out from our side in quick succession. None of them was mine. Almost simultaneously the three men sagged at the knees, crumpled up, fell sprawled on their faces and lay still.
Slowly we emerged from the ditch and slowly and cautiously approached the bodies. But they did not move, and when we turned them over, they were quite dead.
"That was neat shooting," I remarked.
"We have a rule in situations like this," the professor explained. "We take the man nearest to us. It avoids confusion. Now, where's Paul?"
For the first time I realized that only Peter and Dominek had come out of the ditch with the professor.
Swinging round, the professor called: "Paul! Paul!"
We listened, straining to catch any sound; and from the ditch came a faint groan.
Peter was the first to move, sweeping the hedgerows with his flashlight, and over on the right we saw Paul, stretched on his back. We hurried over to him and saw that the front of his shirt was soaked with blood. He was conscious, but only just, and every now and again a paroxysm of pain shook his entire body.
The professor knelt beside him and pulled open his shirt. Blood was seeping from a neat hole in Paul's right shoulder and he had lost a good deal of it. From the curious angles of the bone it was obvious, too, that his collarbone had been shattered.
Without a word Dominek pulled off his shirt and ripped it into strips. Deftly he put a pad over the wound and bound it tightly.
"It's not serious," he said.
We picked him up and carried him to the roadside.
"Well take their car," the professor said.
"If we do, we must destroy ours," Dominek said.
So I got my rucksack from the back seat and a couple of minutes later the car was blazing fiercely and we put Paul in the back seat of the L.P.R. car, got in ourselves and in just over half an hour Peter brought us to the professor's summer cottage, in a clearing in the South Farino Forest.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gombroch Strikes
I was gradually coming out of my sleep next morning when the professor came into my room in his dressing gown, his hair still tousled and a letter in his hand. It was already ten o'clock, but it had been five before Dominek, who would soon qualify as a doctor, had cleaned and bound Paul's wound and set the broken collarbone. We had done what little we could to help him. From the professor's expression it was obvious that something had happened. He came straight to the point.
"Raymond Maran has just arrived," he said. "His father has sent this letter. You'd better read it."
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Read Anton's letter," the professor repeated, and gave me the sheet of paper.
Dear professor, I and my family have had to go underground. Gombroch has naturally put two and two together and by great good fortune—for him—has made four. Although he has no proof, beyond the little man whom the captain calls the Tortoise, he is convinced that the man he is looking for is the man to whom we gave the name of David Bremer.
We have just received warning from the capital that the Monster has given the order for the arrest of all of us on account of Ray's part in getting the captain into Tredentz. I am going north at once with Maria, where the organizer of the Brebnitz section will hide us. My son-in-law, Robert, will go over to the northwest, where he has friends. Francis will go to his aunt in the southeast, where he will be quite safe. Raymond will go to my brother in Starya and work in his garage. All of us have false papers, and when the hue and cry has died down we should not be in any great danger.
As to Captain Martel recrossing the frontier, George Manek has agreed to put him across tonight. The captain must be at the old linesmen's shack three-quarters of a mile from Kobo station, and south of the track, at 11 p.m. Raymond will guide him there. They must arrive exactly on time, otherwise George will not wait. The L.P.R. have called twice on him already and seem to suspect him. He does not wish to be away from his cottage too long at one time, therefore.
Then followed particulars of the man who was taking over from him as section organizer of Gallia, and of the new local code phrase, and he concluded with wishes for my success.
"I am sorry this has happened to the Marans," I said as I handed the letter back to him.
"You need not blame yourself, captain," the professor replied. "It could have happened any time. The Marans and George Manek have risked their lives almost daily during the last five years, organizing the main escape route to the West."
"Where is Ray?" I asked.
"I hope he is having something to eat. He is very tired and looks all in. It took him most of the night to get here, across country, and it is very rough going. I shall send him to bed when he has fed. Breakfast is ready for us when we are ready, captain."
I said I would get up at once, and in ten minutes was sitting with Raymond, Dominek and Peter round the professor's dining table, all of us quietly trying to encourage and cheer up the quiet boy. But it was not an easy task, and I was glad when the professor came down and insisted on Ray going to bed.
During the morning I studied on a large-scale map the route Raymond and I would take that evening. I did it chiefly to give me something to do. I had no idea how useful it was going to be.
After lunch I went to my room to sleep. We had before us a fifteen-mile walk, and the actual crossing of the frontier was not without its dangers. I wanted to be absolutely alert, ready for anything that might happen.
It was six o'clock when I awoke and went downstairs and found the professor, Peter, Dominek, Raymond and a young woman, whom the professor later introduced as his daughter, Elizabeth.
As I came into the room Dominek was saying: "But I don't see how we could do it, sir!"
"Ah, captain!" the professor exclaimed when he saw me. "We have had a setback. My daughter has just brought us news from Tredentz. It looks as if Gombroch has gone mad."
"During the night he arrested two hundred people in the capital and all the large towns, which accounted for all the activity. He has just chosen them at random and announced that—to use his own words—if those who are plotting against the state continue with their activities, these two hundred men and women will be shot as hostages."
"He is convinced that you have come to help the plotters, and he believes that now you and your fellow conspirators will not dare to go ahead because of his threat to the hostages and you will try to leave the country. So he has asked for the whole frontier which is passable on foot to be trebly guarded. If Manek agrees to take you under the circumstances I fear you are going to run a great risk, captain, and we're worried about the gun. We have worked so hard to get it to the West."
Before I could make any comment on what the professor had told me, Dominek insisted again: "Unless the captain takes it, there is no other way!"
I must admit that I had to agree with him, though I could understand the professor's point of view. In fact, I should have been very much happier myself if I could have had a partner escaping by a different route, one of us taking the gun and the other the plans. Then, if one of us was cau
ght, at least the whole effort would not have been for nothing.
The professor, however, would not give up as easily as the younger men, and I suppose we must all have talked round and round it in circles for half an hour without coming any nearer to a solution.
We were still pondering it when we were all suddenly startled by a shout outside. I think everyone's reaction was that the secret police had discovered where we were. But when the shout came again we could hear the words.
"Hey! Professor! Your car's blocking the road again!"
"It's Pinza," the professor said. "He can't get by with his cart. I always forget to take the car round to the side."
"I'll go and move it," Raymond offered, and hurried out of the room.
A few seconds later he was rushing back to us, his eyes bright with an excitement so great he could hardly speak.
"Professor! Professor!" he called. "The solution's outside!"
We all stared at him, wondering whether the strain of the last few days might be telling on him at last.
"What is it?" the professor asked quietly, as if to soothe him.
But before Raymond could reply the man who had called out appeared in the doorway.
"Sorry to trouble you, professor," he said. "But I can't get my cart by your car. I thought the boy there was going to move it, but instead…"
"Tell the professor what you've got in your cart, Pinza, and where you're taking them!" Raymond interrupted him.
The countryman scratched his head, looking at Raymond even more puzzled.
"Why," he said slowly and uncertainly, as if he were not sure whether he was being laughed at or not, "I've got two cases of earth which that mad mistress of mine has told me to send to her in Austria. She says she can't grow any flowers in Austrian soil and must have some good Gallonian soil. I'm on my way to Kotka station to put them on the night train."
"Good heavens!" the professor exclaimed. "You're right, boy!"
He turned to me and explained that Pinza looked after the nearby country estate of Madame Ranzal, whose husband had recently been appointed Gallonian minister to Austria. She was a keen gardener, though well-known throughout Gallonia for her very eccentric behavior.
"But that won't be any good," Dominek said. "If you hide the… the… er… treasure in one of Pinza's crates of earth and the captain is held up for some reason and can't get to the Austrian frontier station to rescue it, it will go to the Gallonian Ministry and fall into the hands of the men we don't want to have it."
"I know," Raymond snapped impatiently. "But I could get inside one of those crates with the… er… treasure."
I was on the point of protesting that I would not consider his running the risk, when the professor said to Pinza: "Have you got to clear these crates with the customs at Kotka?"
"No," Pinza answered. "You know what madame is. She wrote to the minister of economics and he ordered a special permit to be sent to me, so they won't have to be examined at all. But I wish someone would tell me what this is all about!"
"In a moment," the professor answered, then turning to me: "There it is, captain. Don't you agree?"
"If Ray can get into the box, and there really is no risk…" I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.
As we went out to examine the crates the professor briefly explained everything to Madame Ranzal's gardener, and he at once became as enthusiastic as anyone.
Within a short time one of the crates had been unloaded from the cart, the earth had been tipped out and Dominek, Peter and Pinza were working on it making air holes, which they backed with wire gauze so that no one could see through them, and which would have stopped the earth which ought to have been inside, from falling out.
"You'll have to make identical holes in the other box, with the earth," the professor commented, "otherwise someone will get suspicious."
"That point had not escaped me, sir," Dominek replied drily as he leaned on the brace to make a hole for the small metal saw with which he was cutting the holes.
"How are you going to explain the holes if anyone asks?" I said to Pinza.
"Earth must breathe, otherwise it goes sour. Surely you know that, captain!" he replied with a faint grin.
One of the difficult problems was getting the two crates to weigh more or less the same. Fortunately, Raymond plus the gun weighed less than the box of earth, and they were able to add one or two fairly large rocks, which they fastened down so that if the box were tipped up on end they would not fall on the boy inside.
More difficult was the feel of the box. The crate of earth felt solid, and the weight was distributed evenly all over it. But when Raymond got into his box and we picked it up, it was heavier on one side than on the other.
It was Peter who solved the problem as well as it could be solved by fixing more of the rocks on the lighter side. But it took a good deal of time and patience before everyone was satisfied.
There was enough room in the box, which was oblong in shape, for Raymond to lie on his side with his knees slightly drawn up. I was sure that having to be in this position, in which he could not stretch his legs out fully, would give him cramps and be very painful. But he insisted that he would be able to manage. At all events it would be a very uncomfortable two or three hours which he would have to spend. As I stood by watching them, I had to admire the courage of them all, and particularly the great courage of the boy.
When the box was ready the professor, Raymond and I discussed our plans under these new circumstances. The night train reached Kotka station shortly after ten o'clock, usually stayed there for half an hour while the passengers' papers were checked, and it generally was crossing the frontier into Austria at about twenty minutes to eleven.
If I got to the linesmen's shack at ten o'clock and everything went well, George Manek should put me over the border at about half past ten. The Austrian station was half a mile up the line, and if I did not waste time I ought to arrive there a few minutes before the train.
If I was not there, Raymond was to release himself from the box and wait for me at the station. Supposing I did not arrive before daybreak, he was to make his way to Vienna and hand the gun with a letter I would give him to the British ambassador there, who would look after him.
So that he could get out of the box, the lid had only been lightly nailed down with a few short nails, and it was to be roped up in such a way that he would be able to cut the rope with his long-bladed sheath knife through one of the air holes. Freight of this kind was invariably carried in an open gondola covered by tarpaulin, so getting out of the freight car would present no difficulty. But there was one serious danger—supposing other freight were piled on top of or around Raymond's box so that he would not be able to break open the lid?
Pinza said he would stay with the boxes until he had seen them loaded into the freight car. "Earth must breathe," he repeated. He could then make sure that this did not happen. Madame Ranzal's "funny ways" were so well-known, especially in this part of the country around Kotka, that he would be able to do this without raising suspicions. So that Raymond should not have to spend more time than necessary in his very uncomfortable cramped position, they decided that if Pinza left the professor's house at quarter past nine it would be soon enough.
I had to set out for the linesmen's shack at eight o'clock, and by the time the box had been prepared and we had made our plans there was just time for a last meal. Peter was to accompany me on the first half of the journey, for company more than anything else. He would have come all the way with me, but I refused his offer, though grateful for it. The last part of the journey was likely to be patrolled by the soldiers called out by Gombroch, and I much preferred in the circumstances to have only myself to think about. So when I had thanked them all again and had told Raymond that I would see him soon, Peter and I set off.
We went at a brisk pace, and at every step I took the plans of the gun flapped reassuringly between my shoulder blades, in the bag which Elizabeth, the professor's daughter, had made
for them and stitched into the lining of my jacket.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Linesmen's Shack
The last three miles of my journey lay through the South Kobo Forest. Compared with the vast Vazon Forest to the north, this was more in the nature of a wood, and once I had found the broad track which would bring me to the railway, the moonlight lit my way for me and I made good time.
It was five minutes to ten when I came to the edge of the forest and saw to the right, about twenty yards away, the linesmen's shack between the forest and the permanent way which, on this south side, is level with the surrounding country and falls away down a steep embankment only on the north side. Keeping under the trees I made my way along until I was level with the shack and perhaps five yards from it.
Old George had not said whether he would meet me inside or outside the shack, and when five minutes past ten came and there was no sign of him, in view of what he had said about giving me only a quarter of an hour's grace, I decided that he must be waiting for me inside.
I could see from this distance that the shack had fallen into disrepair and must be unused. There were holes in the roof and the shutters at the window in the side facing me were hanging crazily on broken hinges. The door must either be in the side facing the railway or in one of the ends.
Slowly, cautiously and silently I moved out of the wood and made for the east end. But the door was not there; nor was it in the side looking on the railway. So, treading carefully, for I was now on an overgrown cinder path, I went round to the other end.
The door, which opened inward, was slightly ajar. I pushed it and worked my body through the opening, and called "George" quietly.
Before the word was completely off my tongue, two things happened at the same time. I felt myself seized and pulled headlong into the hut; and a light so brilliant that it completely dazzled me was directed on me.
I attempted to break loose from the grip, but it was no good, and then from behind the light came the voice of Gombroch, the Monster.