‘Lie down,’ said I. ‘Lie down. You’re not fit to move. You won’t be fit for ten minutes. Perhaps not then.’
Wildly he stared about him.
‘But the car, sir. What’s happened? I was–’
‘You were laid out,’ said I. ‘Laid out by Grieg. It wasn’t your fault. Somebody must have undone him, for when I got there he was gone.’
The man’s hand flew to his side.
‘He’s taken my pistol, sir.’
‘I know,’ said I. ‘What’s more, he’s taken the car. He’s off to Baron Sabre’s – where we left Mr Hanbury, you know. I only hope that when Mr Hanbury hears him, he doesn’t assume that it’s us.’
‘Oh, my God, sir,’ says Rowley. ‘What have I done?’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ said I. ‘If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Besides, when he sees Mr Hanbury, he’ll get the shock of his life. And now lie down for ten minutes, and let me think.’
I was in a queer state of mind and nearer, I believe, to submission than ever before or since. There had been so many fences and I had been heavily thrown so many times. The last twelve hours had imposed a continuous strain, and the horrid duty which I had set out to perform had played the deuce with my nerves. Because of that, I suppose, this fresh disaster set up no answering action in my weary mind. I looked on it, saw that it was bad, deplored it and – considered the lilies of the field. I found the lush grass absorbing, the babble of the brook a chapter, the piping of the birds most rare. But of our enterprise I was tired. It was clear that in our haste we had bitten off more than we could chew: and now I was sick of chewing and cared not what was the end.
So I sat idle and listless, now watching the bustle of the water and now the birds about their business, and sometimes glancing at Rowley, face downward upon the turf.
Suddenly I remembered Leonie.
The thought of her roused me as an electric shock. My apathy died there and then. Our case was critical. I must do more than fold my hands if I was ever to see my wife again.
I knelt to the brook and made a rude enough toilet that did me a world of good. Then I looked round, to meet Rowley’s questioning eyes.
‘What is it?’ said I, smiling.
‘You had meant to kill him, sir, hadn’t you?’
‘I had,’ said I. ‘For my sins.’
‘Ah, sir,’ says he with a sigh, ‘you should have left it to me. It wouldn’t have spoiled my breakfast.’
‘Wouldn’t it now?’ said I, and got to my feet. ‘Well, come on and do it, Rowley, before it’s too late.’
It was eight o’clock that morning before we re-entered the park, and half past eight before we sighted the house.
I had already decided that we must stay in the background until we had learned, so to speak, the state of the game: for if this was going against us, to blunder upon the scene would be the act of a fool and I had no desire to play for the second time clean into the enemy’s hands. Directly, therefore, I saw the chimney-pots, we laid ourselves down in the bracken and started to crawl, and, very soon making the ridge which I had remarked from the car the night before, perceived the mansion before us two furlongs away.
To stay so far off was useless, but a moment’s survey sufficed to show us how to approach.
Except at this point the home park was heavily timbered. We had, therefore, but to go back and bear to the right or left. In this way, if we went with care, we should be able to come to within a stone’s throw of the house and then, still keeping cover, to go about it and view it from every side. The mansion was neighboured, however, by a girdle of naked turf.
Ten minutes later we lay upon the edge of this sash.
It was a grey, old place, for the most part two stories high, and had, I judged, been added to more than once, for its various portions did not agree together, some being very humble and some ornate. It seemed as though the main entrance had formerly stood to the west, for though now nothing but windows looked out that way, an apron of cobbled pavement had made good standing for coaches in days gone by, and a road ran away from that side and out of the shallow basin in which the mansion stood. This was, of course, the drive which led to Vigil, which Grieg had used that morning, which, had we but had our map, we should have sought and taken the night before.
Here I should say that Grieg’s car was not to be seen: indeed, a curl of smoke from a chimney and two or three open windows were all the signs of life that we could descry, and, since a great deal may happen in four or five hours, it came to me that we might be wasting our time upon a stable from which the horses were gone. My better judgment, however, insisted that we should lie close, and, since from where we were hidden we could watch the south and west sides, I bade Rowley stay where he was and started to make my way round, to view the rest of the house.
Now I could not do this without crossing the second drive. I, therefore, fell back until I was out of the hollow and over the ridge, for I guessed that if Grieg was watching, his eyes would be bent upon the road that led towards Vigil, for that was the way down which his fortune would come.
I had crossed the road on my stomach, just out of sight of the house, and was hastening back into the hollow through a parcel of whispering firs, when I saw the sparkle of nickel, and there was Grieg’s car.
It was empty and its engine was cold.
For a little I could not conceive why the car should be there. Then it flashed into my mind that Grieg had thus bestowed it against his arrest. Had he left it at the door of the mansion or even within some yard, he could scarcely have reached it, much less have driven it off, except by consent of those who had come to make his arrest, but by leaving it hidden beyond the girdle of turf, he had only himself to gain cover, make his way round to its lair and then drive quietly away while those who had come to take him were searching the house. To support this conclusion, the car had been backed into hiding and so stood all ready for a precipitate flight.
After a moment’s reflection, I opened the bonnet and took the contact-breaker away. I slid this into my pocket and shut the bonnet again. The car was now at my service, but at that of nobody else, yet showed no sign of having been disabled or even of having been touched. When I glanced at the petrol-gauge this showed that the tank was half full. I then recovered Grieg’s pistol which Rowley had put in a locker behind the back seat, and so licked clean the platter which luck had thrust under my nose.
We were once more both of us armed and we had control of the car. This was conveniently hidden and ready for use. Lastly, though he did not know it, Grieg’s means of escape was gone.
I went on my way cheerfully…
To the north of the house stood stabling about a yard, but I heard no sound of horses and saw no movement at all. What I found to the east, however, repaid me for making the round.
This face of the house rose from a row of arches which gave to an empty cloister, flagged with stone. Above ran one row of windows, and these very tall, suggesting a gallery or banqueting room: and right at the end stood the chapel, with, rising above it, a belfry in which hung a poor-looking bell.
Now, as I have shown, we could not come up to the mansion without crossing the girdle of turf, and though Grieg might not see us, he was almost certainly keeping some sort of look-out. I found it unlikely, however, that he would attend to this side, and the cloister, when once we had made it, would afford the finest cover that any man could desire. As like as not, moreover, it served as a porch to some door, and I made up my mind to fetch Rowley without more ado.
It took me some time to make my way back to his side, and when I had told him my news and had given him Grieg’s pistol, I turned on my back for a moment, to take some rest.
Before I had lain for two minutes, far in the distance I heard the sound of a car.
Even as I heard it, it faded, only to swell into earshot more clear than before.
Some car was coming from Vigil – at least, from the west.
We waited breathlessly…
Then a closed car flashed from the trees and swept to the house. On the seat by the driver sat one of the uniformed police.
It seemed that Grieg’s hour was come.
I was watching the car swing out to sweep to the door, when I heard another car coming, though not so fast as the first.
I returned to the latter to see get out the sergeant who had been so friendly to me the night before. Two other police were with him, one in plain-clothes.
Their mission admitted of no doubt. But since of the four not one took the simple precaution of stepping as far as the corner and looking down the side of the house, I would have laid any money that they were doomed to draw blank. Indeed, it came into my mind that now was the moment for us to repair to Grieg’s car, for that there we should be certain to find him and Rowley could do his business and shoot him dead.
The notion was idle, and I dismissed it at once, if only because of the attention which the sound of the shot would attract; but even as I dismissed it, I saw the outstanding value of such a move.
Rowley had Grieg’s own pistol. Once he had killed the fellow, he had but to thrust the weapon into its owner’s hand and make himself scarce. The police would rush to the scene to find that the man they were seeking had put an end to their duty by taking his life.
Their work being, therefore, over, they would see to the bestowal of the body and go their way, little dreaming that we were but waiting for them to take their leave.
As George Hanbury would have said, ‘the thing was too easy’. As I turned to give Rowley his orders, I heard a familiar sigh – the sigh of a well-tuned engine, running very slowly just out of sight.
The second car had just surmounted the ridge and was gliding into the hollow, or standing still. And I knew whose car it was and why he had come.
Prince Paul had been shown my statement and had come in all his fury to settle with Grieg.
It was now more important than ever that we should not lose a moment in giving effect to my plan. I, therefore, touched Rowley’s shoulder, and, using the greatest caution, began to move back through our cover in order to come to Grieg’s car.
So for some fifty paces, and then we were brought up short.
A pleasant ride cut through the wood we were using and lay like a smooth, green river full in our path. Running due north and south, it was at this hour full of sunlight, and, though it was screened from the mansion, anyone standing at the point where it met the drive could have seen a rabbit crossing a furlong away. And there, at that point of vantage, no more than twenty yards distant from where we lay, was resting the royal car.
I could not see the Prince, but I could hear him speaking, though not what he said. A door of the car was open, and two men I had never seen were standing close beside it, looking towards the house. One I had little doubt was the Chief of Police. By the side of the chauffeur sat an officer, wearing field-service dress.
My first idea was to withdraw, with a view to crossing the ride at its farther end: then I saw that to fetch such a compass would take us full twenty minutes if we were to move with care, whereas, if the royal car passed on, we could reach Grieg’s car in a moment from where we now lay. Add to this that until the Prince moved, we could not put our plan into action for fifty Griegs, for, let alone the risk of an outcry, a shot fired at quarters so close would have brought his companions about us before we could make ourselves scarce.
So we lay in the undergrowth, peering through a lattice of brambles and straining our ears.
I cannot say how long we waited before we could hear what was said, but the Prince was impatient as ever and kept up a fire of what I took to be grumbling, for those about him said nothing, but only shifted and frowned and continued to stare down the road. They could, of course, see nothing except a slice of the house, but that, I think, was because the very odour of peril offended their master’s nose.
At last he flung out of the car and on to the turf.
‘—the fools,’ he spouted. ‘Four of them to collar one rogue, and they can’t bring it off. They’re funking it, Weber. They’re afraid.’
The Chief of Police summoned a crooked smile.
‘I don’t think so, sir,’ he said.
‘Then why don’t they come?’
The other inclined his head.
‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I can offer a dozen reasons. He may not be there, for one thing. Or if he is there, they may have found him abed.’
‘Rot,’ said the Prince. ‘He’s there all right, and they know it. But they’ll come back and swear he isn’t because of the value they set on their dirty skins. Suppose they’d been placed as I was the other day. Alone in a high-walled garden, with three men trying to kill me – and I without a stick in my hands. Three of them, man. I admit I went up a tree, but that was because I couldn’t get into the house. I laid two of them out, anyway. And the third ran like a rabbit – to get behind a shutter and shoot me as I came to the steps. And then I had to watch my two chauffeurs give away the game I had won. Dirty white-livered skunks.’
Weber made no reply. I fancy he knew his man.
‘The point is this,’ said the Prince. ‘If Grieg–’
‘Here they come, sir,’ said Weber’s companion.
The Prince stood his ground.
‘Have they got him?’ he said.
‘Yes, sir,’
‘Is he handcuffed?’
‘Yes, sir.’
The Prince fell to biting his nails. Suddenly he started forward.
‘I’ll get back in the car,’ he said. ‘No, I won’t.’ He stopped in his tracks. ‘Candel, get down and come and stand by my side. Have your revolver ready, and if he moves a muscle just shoot him down.’
The officer alighted and stepped to his monarch’s side.
To this day I do not know how Grieg came to be caught. Having no one to share his vigilance, he had, I imagine, taken some petty risk. Had he opened a tap, for example, the noise of the running water might well have covered the sound of the oncoming car. And he had the look of a man surprised at his toilet, for he wore no coat or collar, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled back.
He was between two police, and at a sign from Weber the three marched on to the sward.
His face was like a grim mask, and his lip was curling a little, as though in insolent scorn.
I found myself wondering what cards he was going to play.
He made no sort of reverence, but took his stand firmly and looked the Prince up and down.
The latter’s eyes narrowed.
‘You’re a pretty blackguard, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘No doubt your Royal Highness knows best. You always do.’
‘You insolent swine,’ cried the Prince. ‘This is what I get for taking you back. I exercised the prerogative of mercy–’
‘Why?’ said Grieg.
‘Because it was my pleasure,’ said the Prince, with a lift of his chin.
‘Because,’ said Grieg deliberately, ‘you believed me the only man that could lay these scum by the heels.’
The other stamped his foot.
‘Don’t dare to answer me back. I decided to give you a chance, and you’ve used it to let me down. You’re a filthy traitor, Grieg. You always were. But you’ve cut your throat this time, and by God, I’m going to put you where you belong.’
Grieg shrugged his shoulders.
‘“Put not your trust in Princes”,’ he said.
The monarch put his hands on his hips and wagged his unpleasant head.
‘Nothing doing this time,’ he sneered. ‘How much did they pay you, Grieg?’
‘We are not upon those terms,’ said Grieg shortly. ‘They know me too well.’
‘I see,’ said the Prince softly. ‘Well, I’m sorry to say they’ve split. They’ve given you away with both hands. The price isn’t mentioned, but how d’you explain how they know the inside of your car?’
Again Grieg shrugged his shoulders.
‘I can only
attribute that to the use of their eyes.’
‘The inside, Grieg. Not the outside.’
‘Same answer,’ said Grieg insolently.
The other’s smile changed to a glare.
‘Are you trying to bluff?’ he demanded. ‘Because if you are –’
‘I am not in the habit,’ snapped Grieg, ‘of wasting my time. You’ve made up your mind I’m a traitor – “a filthy traitor” I think were the royal words. As is your way, you’ve therefore had me arrested out of hand. No doubt you will deal with me as you think I deserve.’
‘By God, I will,’ said the Prince.
‘And with the English swine you commanded me to capture – by hook or by crook.’
The Prince’s eyes burned in his head.
‘To capture, Grieg, to capture,’ he raved. ‘Not to succour, you hound. Not to put out of the country – out of my reach. Did they have a good meal at Bariche? Whose health do you think they drank at The Broken Egg? Don’t you think they laughed as they went by the guards at Elsa? Don’t you think she’s laughing at Littai? Hooting with laughter to think that I’ve been befooled? And where’s Chandos? You had him last night alone, with cuffs on his wrists. Where is he now? He was in your charge, and I demand him. You gave a receipt for his body. You signed the book. He was safe under lock and key, and you used the power I gave you to take him out. Perhaps you lent him your car to go to Littai…’
Grieg threw back his head and laughed.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You suddenly restore me to favour and give me orders which I promise to execute. Before my work is over, without a word of explanation I am put under arrest. That by the very men of whom half an hour ago I was in command. D’you think that conduct’s conducive to getting your way?’ He flung out his manacled wrists. ‘How the devil can I produce Chandos or anyone else? More. Why the devil should I produce them in the face of treatment like this? Why should I answer your questions? Why open my mouth? I signed the receipt for his body. You’ve cancelled that receipt by having me put in irons. You gave and you have taken away. That is the prerogative of princes. I have been, somewhat brusquely, relieved of my authority. You will no doubt replace me by someone whom you can trust. It does not amuse me to teach my successor to gather the fruit of my work.’
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