“That is understood, madam.”
He bowed again and withdrew.
Very soon after, the Grand Duchess took her leave.
As I opened the door, she looked me full in the eyes.
“Who’s Baron Veners?” she murmured.
The next moment she was gone.
I made my way to the window and stood looking out into the night.
There was much that was strange about the bailiff and unusual about the place. The name on the book-plates was not Veners. The house was at our disposal, and food and wine, but not a horse to help us to go our ways. But I was tired and had had my fill of riddles, and I think there comes a time when the evil of the day is sufficient and a man will swallow his fortune without asking whence it came. The Grand Duchess, however, was not the one to ask an idle question or to set a tired man thinking for nothing at all.
Wearily enough, I started to marshal my wits…
As I did so, without and below the window somebody coughed.
I leaned out to see the bailiff, sitting as we had found him, on the bench by the door. This was open, and his shape was outlined against the blur of light which was shed by a lamp in the hall. His great head was up, and he was smoking placidly, with his heavy arms folded and his eyes on the West.
I drew in my head and strove to appraise the man.
He had not been uncivil, yet he had not been polite: he had been firm, but not downright: his air was not that of a soldier, nor that of a rogue, but of something betwixt and between – I could not think what. I did not distrust the fellow, but I had the feeling that, though he had given us shelter, he had done so neither for our sake nor yet for his own. He had seemed, I recalled, to doubt the presence of the car and had plainly decided to go and see for himself. He had called for a lantern, although night had not fallen and only a blind man could ever have missed the way. When I would have talked, he would not: and, when the Duke had crossed him, he passed it by. These things were consistent with his manner – the wilful, deliberate manner of a masterful man whose eyes are upon his duty, whose duty is to take no risks…
Slowly I returned to the room.
As I looked upon the table which bore the remains of our meal, I suddenly wondered whether the food we had eaten had not in fact been prepared for somebody else.
Instantly my brain seized upon this idea.
We could not have been expected: yet, if our reception was improvised, it had been amazingly done. The Baron was not in residence, yet his apartments were open and ready for use: four benighted strangers had been given a four-course dinner with more dispatch than they would have found at an inn – this notwithstanding that so far as we were concerned no orders had been issued to the servants until the bailiff was back from viewing the car.
The thing was clear. Company had been expected, and we had taken its place.
Before I could digest this conclusion, I saw that it was false.
If the bailiff was expecting a party, he would hardly have encouraged four strangers to usurp its lodging and board.
I felt suddenly angry with the man. As our host, he should have been friendly. Instead, he had the air of a jailer. Yes. That was right. He had the air of a jailer…
The word might have been a wand.
As it came into my mind, the scales fell from my eyes.
Who Baron Veners might be, I did not know. But I knew where he was. And that was on his back by the side of a country road, with his hands bound fast behind him and Bell and Rowley sitting in the dark by his side.
3: In the Enemy’s Camp
As I had half expected, the bedchambers we were given were cells which the monks had used. They were very small and must have been cold in winter, for the walls and floors were of stone: but they were pleasantly furnished, and each had a little window that looked upon the courtyard.
A woman that was sewing in the passage lighted us into our rooms, and, when she had bid us ‘Good night,’ I entered Hanbury’s chamber and shut the door.
George heard me out in silence, smoking and swinging his legs.
When I had finished—
“Good for you,” he said shortly. “Once you’re shown it, the thing is as clear as paint. The bailiff was expecting his master – complete with political prisoner, to wit, the heir apparent of Riechtenburg. When he saw the Grand Duchess, he guessed that the game had been bungled and smelt a chance of picking the pieces up. But the first thing to do was to see if the Duke was there: so he takes a lantern to have a look at his face. The rest’s easy… But I don’t think he’ll send for petrol at break of day.”
“I must get it,” said I: “but our friend mustn’t know that I’ve gone. So long as he thinks we suspect nothing, he’ll let us alone. Sans petrol we’re stuck, and he knows it. What’s more, he’ll swear that some’s coming, to keep us glued to the house. If he asks where I am, you must say I’m keeping my bed: but, with luck, I’ll be back before breakfast with Rowley and Bell.”
George took his pipe from his mouth and rubbed his nose.
“Bill,” says he, “don’t be a fool. This dukeling may have his merits. If he has, they’re damned well veiled, but they may be there. But I’ll tell you this. Lump them all together and chuck in his rotten life, and they’re not worth the one-night’s rest of an honest man.”
“I know,” said I, smiling. “But I’d like to help the Grand Duchess. There’s nothing the matter with her.”
“I suppose this will help her,” said George thoughtfully.
I shrugged my shoulders.
Then I gave him the key of the outhouse in which the Rolls stood, and told him there were arms in her locker and advised him to draw a pistol as soon as he decently could.
“And tell the Grand Duchess I’ve gone, but not the Duke.”
“Is that wise?” said George.
“Very wise,” said I. “She’s a quicker wit than we have and – and better hands.”
“I believe you,” said George: “but she’s got a whip in her boot.”
I put out my candle and leaned out into the night.
There was the bailiff, still sitting by the side of the door, in case, I suppose, his master should presently come. Whether his dogs were with him, I could not tell.
I had not had much hope of being able to go that way, and, indeed, it seemed idle to have to do with the court, when the back of the house gave upon blowing meadows that ran right up to the woods. I, therefore, drew in my head and turned to the door.
Now I had learned as a child that in abbeys and suchlike foundations there was sometimes a stairway that led direct from the dormitories into the church: and it at once occurred to me that, though the church was gone, the stairway, if built in the mansion, would still be there.
A glance through my keyhole showed that the passage was in darkness, and an instant later I was stealing down it as fast as I dared. My shoes were soled with rubber and made no sound.
Sure enough, at the end of the passage I came to a winding staircase some four feet wide.
I had stopped at its head for a moment, to see if I could find handhold, in case I slipped, when I thought that I heard a movement behind my back.
I was flat against the wall in an instant, and holding my breath, but, though I stood for two minutes as still as death, the sound was not repeated, and I made up my mind that my fancy had played me a trick.
Stealthily I descended the steps.
At their foot was a little landing, and then I was brought up short by a door in the wall. Beneath this fresh air was blowing, where the aged threshold was worn.
There was neither latch nor keyhole, but only two great bolts, and these were loose in their staples, so that I was able to draw them without any noise.
At once the door swung inward, and I saw the sable country and the heaven thickset with stars.
But, if I was now free of the mansion, I was not free to be gone, for I dared not leave the door open and I could not so much as close it, when once I was out.
I could have stamped for vexation at this untimely hitch.
Had there been a latch, I would have latched it and been content. Had the oak stayed still, when I shut it, I would have left it so, and have chanced the mischief of the wind: but, as I have said, it swung inward, because it was badly hung, and I dared not leave it open, for, though no eye should see it, the draught in the passage above would tell its tale.
There was nothing to be done but go back and rouse George Hanbury. Then we could come down together and he could see me out.
Heavily I shut the door and slid a bolt back into place. Then I turned again to the stairs.
As I did so, I heard a movement two or three steps away.
In a flash I was upon the intruder, had flung an arm round his neck and had clapped a hand over his mouth.
Then I jumped like a schoolgirl, let go my prisoner and lay back against the wall.
It was the Grand Duchess.
For a moment neither of us spoke, but I know that my heart was pounding and there was sweat on my face.
At length—
“I’m most dreadfully sorry,” I whispered. “I—”
“Where are you going?” she breathed.
“To Bariche for petrol. We’re in the enemy’s camp.”
“Ah,” says she. “Are you sure?”
“Certain. Hanbury will tell you tomorrow. You gave me the cue.”
“Does the bailiff suspect that we know it?”
“No,” said I. “And, if you’ll shut this door behind me, there’s no reason why he should.”
“Very well.”
I hesitated. Then—
“I – I must have hurt you,” I stammered.
“It is nothing,” she said. “How will you find your way?”
“Bariche lies South, and I can steer by the stars.”
“I see,” she said slowly. And then, “I don’t want to fumble. You had better show me the bolts, if I am to shut the door.”
She gave me her hand, and I brought her up to the door. Then, with my hands upon hers, I taught her to shoot the bolts without making a sound.
A moment later I was out on the turf, and, before five minutes were past, I had left the meadows behind and was climbing within the woods.
I have little to say of that journey, except that I can think of no error into which I did not fall.
I sought to go South, but, though the stars were luminous, I met so much mountain and forest, that my course became more ragged with every step. So sure as I found a road, this would soon curl about until I was heading North, and twice, with my eyes on the heaven, I walked clean into a ditch. I strode a mile out of my way to miss a wood, only to encounter a cliff which I could not climb, and, when, in despair, I returned and entered the wood, five minutes’ scrambling brought me into a valley from which I could only escape by stumbling due East for nearly another mile. Because I could find no bridge, I stripped and forded a river to gain a road; but, before I had gone half a mile, the road turned suddenly North and over the very water I had been at such pains to cross. The countryside itself might have been enchanted. I confounded substance with shadow, and height and depth deceived me over and over again. Peer as I would, I could not judge any distance, great or small, and if ever I dared to hasten some pitfall was always ready to bring me down. If I passed by men or beasts I never saw them, while, as for habitations, I might have been wandering in some uninhabited land.
All the time I kept thinking of the Grand Duchess and our meeting upon the stair and the rough way in which I had used her before I knew that it was she. I was sure that I must have hurt her, for I am a powerful man, and, remembering the touch of her soft and yielding body and her delicate face, I cursed again the violence which I had laid on. How she had come to watch me I could not divine, but supposed that she had not known me and, finding my way suspicious, had followed me down. This seemed a poor explanation, for, when I released her, she knew me, although I had spoken no word: and that made me wonder how it was that I recognized her…
Whilst I was revolving this mystery, I caught my foot in a trailer and fell into a bramble-bush. And that was the end of my troubles, for I let out an oath so noisy that some dog began to bark, and, when I had ploughed through the briers, I saw a farm house below me and, beyond it, the white of a road.
The farmer was a decent fellow and readily agreed himself to drive me to Bariche, from which I found to my disgust I was still fourteen miles away: but, though his heart was willing and his good wife was more than kind, he did not know how to hasten, and, when I tried to teach him, began to fuss.
It follows that the day had broken long before we had taken the road, and, as this proved very hilly, by the time we came to Bariche, it was nearly seven o’clock. We drove direct to a garage, and there my luck came in, for, ere I was out of the gig, I caught sight of a card in the window which announced that some car was for sale at the price of thirty-five pounds.
Such a bargain was just what I needed, for it was now so late that I had already determined to endeavour to hire some car. Now no one would have let me a car without a driver: but, if no witness sat beside me, before I returned to the abbey I could pick up Rowley and Bell: and this I was eager to do for every reason, but especially because the longer they were left to themselves the more likely was one to go off in search of food. And that would mean a further delay; for enter Riechtenburg without them I would not, charm the Grand Duchess herself never so wisely.
The sale was not done in a moment, for, first, the car was unready, and then I had to test her before I dared drive her away. Except, however, for her battery, she seemed in pretty good trim, and I paid the price demanded at eight o’clock.
I then bought petrol and had the cans put aboard and, after rewarding the farmer, who seemed very much dumbfounded at my buying a second car, I bade them start the engine and clambered into my seat.
Be sure I had purchased a map of the largest scale I could get and had asked the name of the abbey and how I should go. The name of the place was Barabbas, which to my mind seemed proper enough, and happily the map showed it, so that I could check the directions which the farmer and others bestowed. The way was not easy to follow, but one thing was clear, namely that I could not do better than go by the scene of the struggle where I had left Rowley and Bell.
The car was not very swift, but, after the gig’s progress, it seemed to be outstripping the wind, and my spirits rose, like those of a prisoner escaped, with every mile.
Very soon I came to the turning which I was to take and, a few minutes later, to the glittering glades and thickets of the forest through which we had passed.
Approaching the sunken road, I slowed down and looked about me, and almost at once I saw Bell’s head and then Rowley’s rise out of a press of bracken about an oak.
They had little to report.
The man I had struck had continually demanded a doctor and, when they had taken no notice, had burst into tears. Despite his misgivings, he had presently slept very sound and seemed quite relieved, upon waking, to find himself yet alive. The other had proved more unruly, for, after attempting to bribe them to let him escape, he had flown into a passion of fury, rolling about on the ground and biting the turf and then sitting up and screaming so loud that he had to be gagged. By now, however, the two were docile enough, and I think that their night in the open had quenched what spirit they had, for, when I walked over to see them, they uttered no sound, but stared at me so reproachfully that I had much ado to keep a straight face.
When I asked the servants if they had taken their arms, they showed me two heavy revolvers, too large to be easily carried or, for my part, conveniently used.
By my instructions, they then unbound their prisoners and, taking away their glazed hats, followed me back to the car: I had left the engine running, and, before the two rogues, who were stiff, had got to their feet, we were out of sight.
It seemed best to leave them there, to shift for themselves, for the
ir borrowed plumes were against them, and I did not see what they could do but try to walk to Barabbas, avoiding, if they could, all company, lest their garb should arouse suspicions they could not lay.
I then explained the position to Rowley and Bell, and told them that, when we arrived, they were to mark the bailiff and, the moment he gave any sign of interference, to hold him up. “And mind nothing else,” said I, “but him and his dogs, for he’s played his hand very well and he’ll be ripe for murder when he sees that he’s lost the trick.”
I might have spared my breath.
As, half an hour later, we entered the mouth of the valley, a full mile below the bridge, a slim figure flashed from a thicket and into the road.
I brought the car to a standstill as soon as I could.
Then—
“What’s happened?” I cried.
The Grand Duchess, who was hatless, pushed back her hair.
“Grieg,” she said. “Grieg has happened.” She pointed back up the road. “Isn’t there a track along there up which you can back?”
Bell opened the door, and she entered and sat beside me, while I took the car back fifty paces and then up a little track into cover from view.
Then I stopped the engine and waited for her to speak.
“I think one of your servants should go to keep an eye on the road.”
I turned to Rowley and Bell.
“One,” I said, “will stay at the foot of this track, and the other will go to where he can see the abbey at the end of the road. The first sign of movement, please.”
They were gone in an instant, for, hungry and tired as they were, I think they loved adventure, and another brush with the major was very much to their taste.
The Grand Duchess told her tale.
“Mr Hanbury and I had breakfast at seven o’clock. Paul was not down, but the bailiff was in the courtyard. He said he had sent to Bariche and hoped the man would be back by nine o’clock. After breakfast I went to my room. I hadn’t been there ten minutes, when I heard the sound of a car. Of course I thought it was you. So did Mr Hanbury, and I saw him walk out of the house with a pipe in his mouth. The car was an open car, but its hood was raised. As it swept into the court, Mr Hanbury went to meet it, and, when it was almost upon him, I saw him start. Before he could turn, ‘I have you covered,’ said someone. ‘Stand where you are.’
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