I was by the man’s side in an instant.
‘Quick,’ said I. ‘We mustn’t be seen. Is the Countess safe?’
Carol nodded and gave me a little note.
Richard,
Do everything Carol says, and do it at once.
Marya.
As George came hastening, I gave it into his hand.
‘What are we to do, Carol?’
The butler pointed north.
‘On the road over there, sir,’ he said, ‘there is waiting a car. It has just brought me and is ready to take us all back.’
A car…in waiting…
I could hardly believe my ears.
‘Now?’ said George stupidly. ‘Now?’
‘At once, sir. It is very important that you should lose no time.’
‘Go on,’ said George. ‘We’ll be there as soon as you.’
As he turned, came the burst of applause which always followed Ada’s endeavours to dance.
In another instant Bach would be back in the lines. And a hundred yards distant, this side of the gateway which gave from the road to the pitch, sat a couple of mounted police.
Only waiting to take up our coats, George and Bell and I slipped through a gap in the hedge against which the lines had been pitched. Under cover of this we ran the length of the field and then slid down a high bank and into a lane. This ran north and south… A moment later we padded into the road. There was but one car to be seen, for those that were waiting to take people back from the circus were parked to the east. As we hastened towards it, Carol emerged from the field and stood to its door.
The bonnet was facing away, and we could not see who was driving or whether he sat alone, but, as we drew near, the car seemed faintly familiar, as though I had noticed its like a short time before.
As we came up, I heard the engine running…
Then we were all inside, and the door was shut.
Instantly the car moved eastward.
It was a cabriolet, and its hood was up. In front sat two men, wearing dustcoats and peaked blue caps.
‘And now,’ said George, ‘what has happened? How on earth has Madame contrived to get hold of this car?’
‘Sir,’ said Carol, ‘I am simply obeying orders. I know no more than do you what Madame has done.’
Both of us stared at the man.
‘You know more than we do,’ said I. ‘Have you come straight from the forge?’
‘No, sir. I’ve come from Bariche, where Madame is now.’
‘Bariche?’ screeched George. ‘Bariche? Oh, give me strength. D’you mean she’s over the border?’
‘That’s right, sir. We’re going there now.’
‘But how on earth–’
‘Sir,’ said Carol, ‘I am as bewildered as you. Less than an hour ago Madame gave me that note to give you and told me to enter the car.’
‘At Bariche?’
‘At Bariche, sir. At the sign of The Broken Egg.’
‘When did she leave Gola?’
‘Yesterday, sir. A little before midday.’
‘But why? How came she to leave?’
‘I do not know, sir. I was at work in the fields, and when I came back she was gone. Last night this car came to fetch me, but I have not spoken with Madame except to receive her orders to come and fetch you.’
Try as we would, we could wring no more out of the man.
The car went wide of Vigil and joined the Austrian road four miles from the town. I think it was the sight of a corner which I shall never forget that flicked that page of my memory which I had not been able to turn.
‘My God!’ I cried all of a sudden. ‘This is Grieg’s car.’
For a moment there was dead silence.
Then—
‘That’s right,’ said George quietly. ‘And those two chauffeurs are police.’ He sat back and closed his eyes. ‘After this nothing will surprise me. I don’t know what Marya’s done, but I take my hat right off and put it under the seat. I mean, this is more than artistic. Grieg’s car at our disposal to take us out. Grieg’s. I suppose Prince Paul will be at Elsa with a bunch of sweet peas.’
At the mention of Elsa, Carol moistened his lips.
‘When you came to the frontier, sir, I was to tell you to be careful to sit out of sight.’
For a moment we stared at the man.
Then—
‘I give it up,’ said George weakly. ‘I thought she’d been pulling wires, but it seems I was wrong. Marya has done it on them. Marya. Marya Dresden has done it on Grieg.’
I confess that I sat confounded.
That Marya Dresden unaided should have brought off this dazzling coup was inconceivable. We had left her shaken and exhausted, with the fear of arrest upon her, thankful to hide her head. Now by some extraordinary means, she was not only up and doing, but had herself escaped and was bringing us to safety upon our arch-enemy’s back. The thing had the smack of an exploit out of a page of Dumas – of arras and wine and a ring which those who were shown were bound to obey.
Presently we came to Elsa, and George and I sat back, while the others kneeled down on the floor.
The precaution seemed to be needless, for the car and its police were plainly known to the sentries, and those of both countries merely nodded their heads.
Even at this distance of time I find it hard to express the relief we felt at regaining Austrian soil. For four full days we had lived and moved in a nightmare of apprehension, helplessly stumbling upon ground which we knew very well might any moment give way. Riechtenburg was a cage into which we had been decoyed: its keepers were men from whom, if we were taken we could expect no mercy because both we and they were without the law. No unhappy wretch stepping out of the jurisdiction of the Court of Star Chamber ever breathed more freely than we.
Twenty minutes later the car slid into Bariche and up to the door of an inn.
Carol was out in a flash.
‘Madame is on the first floor, sir. Will you please to go up?’
We needed no bidding, and George ran before me into the humble house.
At the head of the stairs was a servant, with a tray in her hands.
‘The Countess Dresden,’ cried George. ‘Which are her rooms?’
The woman stared.
‘The Countess Dresden?’ she said.
‘The lady,’ I cried. ‘The lady that came here today – yesterday. The one that has rooms on this floor.’
Before the woman could answer—
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Bell’s voice.
I turned to see him standing with a note in his hand.
‘What is this?’ said I, for the envelope bore no address.
‘I’ve no idea, sir. Carol put it into my hands and asked me to give it to you.’
With a cry, George snatched the letter and ripped its envelope off.
My dears,
I am to have a pardon, but I could not get one for you. You must never, never enter this country again. One condition of my pardon is that I do not leave Riechtenburg, and another that no communication whatever shall pass between you and me. I am sure you will respect this for my sake. Goodbye.
Marya.
George let fall the letter and clapped his hands to his face.
As he did so, I heard the sound of gears being hastily changed…
I took the stairs at one bound, but George was first in the street.
The car, which had gone about, was thirty yards from the inn and was gathering speed. Carol was standing on the step, holding fast to the screen.
‘Stop!’ yelled George Hanbury. ‘Stop!’
His cries were disregarded, and twenty seconds later the car swung round a bend and we saw it no more.
Passers by had stopped and were staring, but George stood still in the road, with his eyes on the cloud of dust.
After a little, I went up and took his arm.
He turned at that, as though I had aroused him from a stupor, and I cannot forget the tragedy in his face.
‘She’s bought us off,’ he said thickly. ‘Marya’s bought us off. She’s not done a deal with the Prince, or our being seen by the sentries wouldn’t have mattered a damn. Grieg’s car. Grieg’s men. She’s done a deal with Grieg…and she’s bought us off.’
Sitting in a tiny room at The Broken Egg, we sought to piece together what fragments of truth we had.
Marya had made some arrangement to which she knew very well that we should never consent. Carol had, therefore, been taken into her confidence and had been charged to betray us into playing her game. Everything was pointing to some private arrangement with Grieg, who was without any doubt double-crossing the Prince. Her statement that she was to be pardoned was, therefore, no more than surmise: only the Prince could pardon, and the Prince so far knew nothing of what had been done. As for the ‘conditions’ of her pardon, these she had clearly invented to keep us out of the country and prevent us from asking questions to which she could make no satisfactory reply.
Of the nature of her bargain with Grieg we dared not think. The man was harsh and brutal and knew no law. More. He had good reason to hate us with all his might. The price he had set upon our freedom must have been very high…
Before twenty minutes were past, our plans were made.
I made them, and George approved them. What Marya meant to him, I had not guessed. But now there was no mistaking the frantic look in his eyes.
I think we both shrank from using the bridle-path. That way was too slow and was now most likely suspected as one which lawbreakers took. Besides, we could not take it except by night, and that would mean wasting time, for darkness was three hours off. What was more, that path would bring us into the danger zone. If we were to come to Vigil – and that, of course, was our aim – we must not attempt to traverse the region through which we had fled. Now Riechtenburg is only a little country, some half the size of Ireland, or thereabouts. By using the Rolls, therefore, in a very few hours we could reach the western frontier without leaving Austrian soil. As I have said, that border would be easy to cross, and since it was the furthest from Littai, it was not likely that, if we were still to be sought for, we should be sought for there. That it lay far from Vigil could not be helped. At least, we were sure we could cross it, while of the southern border we knew nothing at all.
I have said we were bound for Vigil. Our one idea was to get into touch with the Countess and so with Grieg. Now that she had struck some bargain, the fellow was likely to allow her to go to her house. The bargain, whatever it was, must depend on the Countess’ health, and this had been put in peril by what she had undergone. And so he would send her home. The Prince might rave about treason, but Grieg would not care for that. The man knew too much. If he wished to preserve the Countess, the Countess would be preserved.
Here I may say that, so far as appearance was concerned, we were much more fit for our venture than we had been five days before. Our linen was foul, we had not shaved for four days, and our heavy work with the horses had gone far to ruin our clothes. I do not pretend that we could have borne inspection, but it was perfectly clear that we could pass in a crowd.
The first thing, then, to be done was to reach the Rolls. To this end we hired a car and were driven up to the farm.
Rowley’s relief to see us was overwhelming. Between fear for us and inaction, the poor man was at his wit’s end. Three nights running he had gone up the bridle-path and had actually tracked us to the side of the rushing stream, only to return more troubled than he had set out and more than ever uncertain what he should do. He had had no razor and stood as unkempt as we, for, to pass the time, he had been tending swine and setting to rights a byre which was very foul.
His state decided me to take him with us and to send Bell back to Littai, to give Leonie our news. This, when we had been brought to the river we meant to cross, for events had shown that to keep a car in waiting was an unprofitable precaution and that though, as luck would have it, we now were glad of the Rolls, this was a chance in a thousand which would not occur again.
When I saw Rowley so moved, the concern I had felt for Leonie’s peace of mind rose into a wave of apprehension which would not be stilled. If her spirit was high, my wife was of Riechtenburg and so knew far better than Rowley the danger in which we should stand if ever the Prince came to know that we were within his gates. The five full days of silence must have passed very slowly at Littai and the shocking fear that, unable to bear such suspense, she had herself started to find us kept laying hold of my heart. I would, indeed, have given the world to see her, but for me to visit Littai would have meant a delay of eight hours, and, since any waste of time was not to be thought of, I sought to console myself by insisting that Bell would be with his mistress before another day broke.
When we left the farm, it was not yet eight o’clock, and, the way being easy to find, we went very fast, first of all driving due south and then very nearly due west and skirting the Riechtenburg frontier all the way.
We had covered some ninety miles, when I, who was keeping the map, gave George some wrong direction, and, since it was now very dark, a quarter of an hour went by before we discovered my mistake. This we did by running into some suburbs much too substantial to be ignored by the map, yet not marked upon the road which we had intended to take. What was worse, when George had slowed down, I could not perceive my mistake, for, to judge by the map, there was no town for thirty miles round, save only one called Sallust, and that stood in Riechtenburg.
It seemed dreadfully clear that we were miles out in our reckoning, and that at a time when we had not a moment to lose.
Bitterly reproaching myself, I called to a passing soldier and asked him the name of the place. He said at once that it was Sallust.
‘Sallust?’ I cried. ‘But Sallust is in Riechtenburg.’
‘Ay,’ said the man, ‘the old town. But this is the new. They are all one really, but the river divides them in two. If you want to go in’ – he pointed – ‘that is the way to the river, and so to the bridge. The Customs are there.’
With that, he was gone, and George and I studied the map. This gave no sign of any such state of affairs, but it showed that Sallust stood forty miles from Vigil, while the point for which we had been making lay sixty-five.
‘This is the place,’ said George. ‘With a dual population restrictions are bound to be slack.’
As he spoke, he let in the clutch…
He took the Rolls down to the river and berthed her under some limes. Then we alighted and strolled along the bridge.
This was busy. Maybe because it was Sunday, all sorts and conditions were crossing, and nearly everyone was going to Riechtenburg. In the midst of the bridge a movable bar or turnpike prevented all wheeled traffic and forced the people afoot to go by in single file. Here the rule of the road was strictly observed, and whichever way a man passed he kept the bar on his left. Those going to Riechtenburg went without let or hindrance, but those coming out were inspected by three of that country’s police. Leaning on the bar were four sentries, engaged in talk and glancing now and again at such as approached the police.
All this we could see very well without being seen, for on either parapet, directly in line with the bar, was a huge wrought-iron lantern, dispensing electric light.
I cannot pretend that I liked it, but this seemed to be our chance. For all the attention paid them, those that were going our way might have been leaving the gates of a football ground, and, indeed, they gave the impression of going home after some entertainment from which they had been lately dismissed. If this were so and we were indeed to join them, it was clearly unwise to delay, for any moment their number would begin to diminish and this would increase such risk as we were to run. Without more ado, I therefore, gave Bell his instructions and bade him get back to the car.
We watched his retreating figure, and when the Rolls had stolen into the shadows, we turned to the bridge.
By one consent we parted, and casually mingled wi
th such as were going our way…
As I was leaving the road, I saw George nearing the bar in the midst of the bridge, and though I could not see Rowley, I knew that he was between us, for I had watched him go on.
It was well we had wasted no time, for already those crossing were fewer than when we had first arrived, but, the passage by the bar being narrow, the press there was still thick enough to offer a fair protection to a man that stuck close to the wall.
Now as I came up to the bar, I found myself next to a peasant who had drunk more than his fill. He was not reeling, but he was very unsteady, and he cursed and muttered as though he was sick of life. He was bearing upon his shoulder a basket of good-looking figs, which threatened every moment to leave their perch, and I could not help thinking that if they came safe to market, their porter would be lucky indeed. I think the press annoyed him, for he was in that condition which needs more than ordinary room, and, when he stumbled against me, he cursed me loudly as though the fault had been mine.
This conduct attracted so much notice that I could have broken his neck, but, since I could not withdraw, there was nothing to be done but go forward and hope for the best.
We were full in the light of the lamps when he stumbled and cursed me again.
‘Order, there. Order,’ cried a sentry – and brought the sweat out on my face.
But worse was to come.
As I made to pass by the turnpike, the drunkard thrust for the gap. Then he struck my shoulder with his basket and sent its burden flying all over the flags.
I suppose it was natural that he should hold me to blame.
Had he not seized me, I could have gone on my way: but his outcry was such that the people ahead turned back to see what the matter might be and before I could shake him off a ring had been formed.
Afraid that my speech would betray me, I let the man rave. Then I shrugged my shoulders and began to pick up the fruit.
As I straightened my back—
‘Whence do you come?’ said a voice.
Two of the police were looking me up and down.
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