Roger knew that, in spite of the threat, to get von Haugwitz to swallow the drug was going to be a very tricky business. If he chanced a stab and pulled Georgina over him, she would become a shield that would protect him from a bullet. In order to have a hand free, he set the dark lantern down on an occasional table, so that its light continued to shine on the Baron. Transferring the pistol from his right hand to his left, he advanced to within two feet of the side of the bed.
Meanwhile, Georgina had laid aside her knife and, keeping well away from her husband, secured his bedside glass and water carafe. When she had mixed the potion, she picked up her knife again and held the glass out to him.
Shaking his head, he refused to take it.
Roger said, 'Either you drink, or I'll shoot you through the heart.'
'No,' he rasped. 'No! I'll vow 'tis poison in that glass. So I'll not drink, and you'll not shoot me. The noise of the shot would rouse the house. You'd never get away then; and my people would tear you both to pieces.'
'Maybe they would,' Roger replied. 'But you would be dead, so derive no benefit from it. Georgina, hold your knife ready and put the glass to his lips.'
Although conscious of the risk she was running, Georgina did not hesitate to do as she was bade. Roger, too, realised the risk; but it had to be taken. With her knife in her left hand and she glass in her right, Georgina bent over her husband to administer the drug.
Suddenly he struck out with both arms simultaneously.
His right sent Georgina reeling back. With his left, he dashed the glass from her hand, so that it rolled across the floor, spilling its contents on the carpet. Flinging himself sideways, he wrenched open a drawer in his bedside table. In it there lay a pistol.
But Roger was too quick for him. Before he could grab it, Roger's right fist caught him a terrific blow on the side of his stomach, just below his ribs. He gasped, and rolled over on his back. Roger's fist came down again, this time full on his solar plexus, driving the breath out of his body. Next moment Roger had sprung upon him and was holding him down. But he needed little holding. His limbs had gone limp, his eyes were bulging from his head, and he was making horrible retching sounds.
'Quick, Georgina,' Roger cried. 'Pour another measure of the potion, and bring it to me.'
Picking up the glass, she tipped half what remained of the drug into it, added water and brought it to Roger.
By then von Haugwitz's breath was coming back in choking sobs, but he still had not the strength to struggle. Instead of taking the glass from Georgina, Roger said to her, 'Pinch his nose tight with one hand, and pour the stuff down his throat with the other. But slowly, a little at a time, or he will sick it up.'
Georgina took her time. Her husband, pinned down by Roger, lay glaring helplessly at her, while the potion trickled down his throat. When the last drop was gone, Roger said, 'Now gag him. Then tie a strip of linen to each of his wrists, and their other ends to the bedposts, just as we did with Lisala.'
Five minutes later, they had von Haugwitz firmly secured, and left him. Enormously elated by die success of their desperate undertaking, hand in hand, but still a little breathless, they made their way in silence back to Roger's room. When they reached it, Georgina asked in a husky voice:
'What do we do now?'
Seating himself on the side of the bed, he drew her down beside him. 'We have to wait until the drug has had time to take effect. We'll then be faced with our worst problem. Where to hide them, so that in the morning the servants will believe that they both got up early and went out.'
'Why not in the wine press where we hid Charles?' Georgina suggested at once. 'No-one is ever in the Weinstube during the eagly part of the day. Pressing docs not start until late in the afternoon.'
'Bless you!' Roger exclaimed. 'It will be no easy business to get them down there. But we'll manage somehow.'
Half an hour later they went to Lisala's room. She was in a deep sleep, and when shaken violently showed no reaction.
Having removed her gag, freed her wrists and pocketed the strips of linen, Roger proceeded to remove her nightdress, as he said, 'We must leave this here, so that the maid will find it and assume that she got up early and dressed herself.'
For a moment he gazed down on the superbly beautiful body from which, many months ago, he had derived such delirious pleasure; but it meant no more to him now than a hunk of dead meat. Hoisting Lisala's naked body over his shoulder, he made towards the door. Georgina preceded him, carrying the dark lantern. They moved cautiously through long passages and down winding flights of stairs, fearful that von Haugwitz might have posted a night watchman to make sure that no-one left the Castle without his permission. But, apparently, he had relied on nobody being able to secure horses without rousing his grooms, and that anyone who made off clandestinely on foot could be pursued and brought back within a few hours. Twenty minutes proved enough for Roger to get Lisala to the Weinstube and lower her gently into the wine press.
Returning upstairs, they went to Ulrich's room. He, too, was in a deep slumber, snoring loudly. With him they followed the same procedure; but he was a heavy man and to get him down proved much more difficult. Several times Roger had to rest. At others, Georgina took her husband's feet while Roger supported his head and shoulders. But, at length, they carried him into the Weinstube, hoisted his naked body up and let it fall into the press beside that of Lisala.
Spent by their exertions, Roger and Georgina went to the dining room and fortified themselves with glasses of Muscatel wine. By then it was three o'clock in the morning. After they had rested a while, Roger said:
'It was arranged that we should start for Frankfurt at eight o'clock in the morning. You will have your breakfast brought to you in bed as usual. I shall have mine downstairs. We must be ready to set off promptly. The drug should keep them asleep until at least midday. That will give us four hours' start. But, with luck, they will sleep on well into the afternoon, which will give us longer before Ulrich can send his men in pursuit of us.'
Georgina laughed. 'Whenever they wake, it is going to be mightily embarrassing for them to find themselves naked, and have to make their way back to their rooms in the nude. At least one of the servants is certain to see them. But it would be even more amusing if they are still in the press when the vintagers arrive to start pressing. They would then become the laughing stock of the country for miles round.'
Roger laughed too, then yawned. 'I'm desperate sleepy. Let us snatch two or three hours' rest before we play the final act and make our bid for freedom.' Lovingly they kissed; then, again hand in hand, went upstairs to their rooms.
At seven, the footman who was looking after Roger woke him from a deep sleep. At seven-thirty he went down to breakfast. As usual, Big Karl stood near the door of the dining room, superintending the service. Roger had never suffered from nerves, and said to him quite casually:
'The Herr Baron came to my room a while ago. He has decided not, after all, to go in to Frankfurt, and has already gone out to supervise the vintaging. The Gnadigefrau Baronin will come with me, to show me the city. But my wife intends to remain behind, and keep the Herr Baron company.'
Big Karl bowed stiffly and accepted this information with a stolid face. Servants in great houses miss little of what goes on among their betters. Karl and his underlings, male and female, knew well enough that their master was sleeping with Roger's wife, and that Roger was sleeping with their mistress. Roger had, in fact, counted on it that they would put their own interpretation on the wish of von Haugwitz and himself to spend a day alone with each other's wives, and so not suspect that he intended to make off for good with Georgina.
Shortly before eight o'clock, Georgina appeared. Ilse was behind her, carrying two heavy valises. For a moment Roger feared that the sight of them might arouse suspicion that she was about to run away with him. But she promptly stilled his fears by saying, loudly enough for Big Karl to hear, 'These are the things that Ulrich wished to have
valued by the silversmith in Frankfurt.'
A coach stood ready at the door. It was, as Roger had expected, one of the Baron's, which meant that he would have to leave his own behind; but that could not be helped. A groom stood nearby with Roger's charger. As Georgina got into the coach, she gave Use a long, grateful look. Roger mounted and they set off down the curving mountain road.
When they reached the main road which ran alongside the broad river, the coachman reined his horses to the left, in the direction of Mayence and Frankfurt. Relieved that they had succeeded in getting away from the Castle without a hitch, Roger had allowed his thoughts to wander. They had traversed a good half-mile when, with a sudden, awful shock, it struck him that von Haugwitz's arrangements for the coach to be held up must still stand.
The Baron's men would obey his order to fire from their ambush in the direction of the coach; and, when it was brought to a halt, surround it. But what then? They would expect him to be with it, to give them further orders and call off the joke. If he was not, what course would they adopt? The most probable answer seemed that they would feel called on to continue to play their role as bandits, capture the occupants of the coach, carry them off to some nearby hiding place, and send to the Castle for instructions.
When the Baron could not be found, Big Karl would take charge of the affair and, no doubt, decree that the prisoners should be held until his master reappeared. By afternoon the infuriated von Haugwitz should again be in a position to give orders. One way or another he would contrive that they spelt death for Roger and Georgina.
Spurring his horse forward, Roger called to the coachman to pull up. With a look of surprise, the man obeyed. Roger then said, 'Now turn about.'
Instead of doing so, the coachman replied, 'We are going to Frankfurt, mein Herr.'
'No. I have changed my mind. We are going to Coblenz.'
The man scowled at him and protested sharply. 'I am driving this coach to Frankfurt. Those are the Herr Baron's orders.'
Roger felt certain then that the coachman was in the plot, and knew about the hold-up that was to take place further along the road; perhaps even only a few hundred yards ahead. He gave a quick glance in that direction, but could see no movement among the trees and bushes which covered the slope up from the roadside. Pulling a pistol from his holster, he pointed it at the coachman, and cried:
'Do as I say. Turn the coach about, or I'll put a bullet into you, then drive it myself.'
Muttering an oath, the man turned the vehicle round. As he did so, a young footman who had been perched on the boot, jumped down and ran off into the bushes.
Cursing his own negligence in having forgotten both the ambush and that, according to custom, a footman would ride on the back of the coach, Roger roared at the coachman, 'Now put your horses into a gallop, or I'll blow your head off.'
Cowed by the threat, the man whipped up his horses, and the coach rattled along the stony road at full speed. But now Roger was really worried. The footman would report to Big Karl what had happened. They would search for the Baron in vain. It was quite possible that the steward was fully aware of his master's intentions. In any case, he knew that it had been planned to ambush the coach; so the odds were that he would take it on himself to send mounted men after it.
Inside the coach, poor Georgina was bounced from side to side. She had caught only Roger's last shouted order to the coachman. Clutching the window-frame, she thrust her head out and called to him, 'What has happened? Whither are we going, and why at such a pace?'
'To Coblenz,' he shouted back. 'This rogue on the box would have driven us into the ambush had I not thought to make him turn about in time. But Coblenz is thirty miles or more downstream. I fear we'll be pursued, and there alone lies safety, so we must make all possible speed.'
As the coach passed below the Schloss, the horses were still going at a gallop; but after a mile, their pace began to slacken. Few men knew more about the staying power of horses than
Roger; and he grimly admitted to himself that, if they were to complete the journey, the most that could be expected of them was a fast trot, cased every mile or two by dropping into a walk.
Having ordered the coachman to slow down, Roger began to assess their chances of getting away. For the footman who had bolted to get back to the height on which the Schloss stood, then trudge up the road to it should take a good three-quarters of an hour. Another half-hour might be spent in unavailingly searching for von Haugwitz in the vineyards, then a final quarter of an hour for Big Karl to decide to act on his own and have his men saddle up.
That meant that the coach would have at least an hour and a half's start. But it could not travel at much more than ten miles an hour, whereas mounted men could do twenty. By the time they started, the coach should be about half-way to Coblenz, but after that the gap would swiftly close. If the pursuers rode hard, they might overtake the coach at any spot on the last ten miles to Coblenz.
"What then?' wondered Roger. As the Confederation of the Rhine was a part of Napoleon's empire, he had gone to Langenstein in uniform. Once in Coblenz, where there was a French garrison, no-one would dare lay a hand on him; although, now that he had ditched Lisala, it was certain that she would betray him, so he must disappear before he could be caught and hauled back to face a firing squad at the order of the Emperor. It followed that his chances of getting away would be better if no-one in Coblenz could report that he had passed through that city.
But speculation about the future was, for the moment, beyond the point; since the odds were that von Haugwitz's men would overtake the coach before it reached Coblenz. Would they dare detain a French Colonel? Since they owed allegiance only to the Baron, he feared they would; for it was he, not they who would have to account for the act. And von Haugwitz could justify it by the fact that Roger was making off with his wife.
The slow descent from the Schloss, their setting out towards Frankfurt and turning the coach round had delayed their taking the road to Coblenz by a good half-hour; but they had covered fifteen miles by ten o'clock—roughly the hour that Roger judged Big Karl might send his men in pursuit of them. With the horses trotting and walking alternately, they progressed another five miles. Then disaster overtook them.
For the first hour, Roger had ridden alongside the coachman, keeping a sharp eye on him. Then, assuming that the man had become resigned to driving them in to Coblenz, he had, now and then, dropped a little behind, to talk to Georgina. He was doing so and the coach was moving at a smart trot, when it suddenly swerved and hit with its near forewheel a large boulder at the side of the road. As a result of the impact, the front axle snapped and, tilting sideways, the vehicle came to an abrupt halt.
Convinced that the coachman had caused the accident deliberately Roger, swearing like a trooper, rode up alongside him, lifted his riding switch and slashed the man with it again and again across the head, shoulders and face. Screaming with pain the man fell into the road from the far side of the box. But this ferocious chastisement could not mend the axle.
A village could be seen in the distance; and, for a moment, Roger thought of galloping into it to fetch a wheelwright. Then he dismissed the idea as useless, for it would have taken several hours' work to repair the damage to the coach. Another possibility was to mount Georgina behind him, ride into the village and take the ferry across the river to the far bank. But to do so would be to court great danger. In theory, the other side of the river was French territory, but French writ did not run there. Napoleon's garrisons were stationed only in towns many miles apart. Between the rivers Rhine and Moselle lay the Hunsruck mountains. Bands of deserters of all nations roamed their forest heights; robbing, looting, murdering at will. He could not possibly take Georgina across the many miles of almost trackless territory inhabited by outlaws.
Georgina had scrambled from the lurching coach. With a courage that had all Roger's admiration, she said quietly, 'This is most unfortunate. What would be best for us
to do now?'
By then, Roger had come to a decision, and replied, 'There's only one thing for it, m'dear. We'll take the horses from the coach, and you must ride.'
Kicking the recumbent coachman in the ribs, he said, 'Get up, you filth. Help me unharness the horses. You're lucky that I have, not thrown you in the river to drown. And I will yet if you give me the least trouble.'
Mopping his bleeding face, the man staggered to his feet and, with trembling fingers, set about unbuckling the harness. Handing the reins of his charger to Georgina, Roger adjusted the stirrups and mounted her upon it. Then, as soon as one of the coach horses had been freed, he strapped on its back the coach rug, folded into a thick pad to serve as a makeshift saddle for himself. The other horse he intended to use as a lead horse, and lashed to its back the two valises containing Geor-gina's most precious possessions. Finally, he turned to the coachman and snapped:
Take off your coat. I want it.'
For a moment the man stared at him in surprise; then, feeling that it was a cheap price to pay for escaping with his life from this terrible Frenchman, he wriggled out of the garment and handed it over. He was a tall man; the coat a long one, coming down nearly to his ankles, and it had a wide, triple collar. It had occurred to Roger that it would completely cover his uniform, and thus enable him to pass any French troops they might encounter in Coblenz, without being saluted and, possibly, remembered. Picking up the coachman's hat for good measure, he hauled himself up on to his makeshift saddle and, with Georgina beside him, rode away from the wrecked coach.
But now it was more than ever uncertain if they would reach Coblenz without being caught. The breakdown of the coach had cost them a good twenty minutes, and it was close on eleven o'clock. If mounted men had been sent after them by this time they could not be far behind; and there was still a third of the way to go. Yet, as sometimes happens, good comes out of seeming ill-fortune; since, without the heavy coach to pull, the horses were capable of greater speed.
Evil in a Mask rb-9 Page 53