Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman

by Stanley J Weyman

  “With the horses, mein Herr?”

  “To be sure,” sharply. “What other party had you?”

  “It would be about two.”

  We sat down with that, Grussbaum at a little distance from me and making himself as small as he could. The landlord removed the cover. Roast veal, of course.

  I carved, sitting with my back to the stove, and the man carried a plateful to Grussbaum, I helped myself and ordered a stoup of beer to be brought for Grussbaum and a bottle of Rhine wine for myself. We heard the man go down the empty passage, and ordinarily I should have made some remark to my companion. But I was vexed with him; the appearance of the meal had dispelled my doubts, and I maintained a displeased silence. The clatter of our knives alone broke it. We plied them briskly, our eyes on our plates.

  Presently we heard the landlord’s returning steps, and, still a little suspicious, I looked up. A second later — it could have been no more — Grussbaum glanced up also, his knife suspended in the air. Our eyes met. We had caught — both of us — a sound other than that which the man’s footsteps made; a light tinkling sound, that even his tramp across the wooden floor, as he came up the room with the wine, did not quite cover. It was the musical ring of bells on a dog’s collar.

  The man — perhaps he was a little dull of ear — did not detect the sound that followed him until he halted to place the bottle and stoup on the table. Then it reached him and, with a muttered exclamation and more activity than I should have expected, he wheeled about and stared at the door. He saw then what we also saw: a tiny white dog standing in the middle of the dark doorway and looking into the room with bright eyes. One moment we viewed the creature, and then with a sharp curse and a rush of feet the man drove it from the door and pursued it down the passage.

  “Azor!” I exclaimed. “Good Lord!”

  “Colossal!” Grussbaum muttered, his eyes still on the doorway, his ears cocked. “Azor! So they are here, mein Herr, right enough.”

  “Thank God!” I sighed. “Then I have them.”

  He shook his head. “I am afraid,” he rejoined, “ that it won’t be as easy as that.”

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE CRACK IN THE SHUTTERS

  WITHIN twenty minutes — we could hardly sacrifice less to the meal and appearances — we had formed our plan; and of those twenty minutes it is not too much to say that I had been forced to devote ten to the enlistment of Grussbaum. The man had every reason to be grateful to me, and I every ground to expect unquestioning aid from him. But I did not get it.

  He evinced, on the contrary, a reluctance which by and by developed into a mulish obstinacy; and it was necessary for me not only to go into the facts with him — at some cost of pride, the man being so poor a creature and, as I thought, so entirely at my disposal — but to set out the girl’s miserable position, and even to dwell upon her possible fate in a manner little to my taste.

  Even when I had done this, the man — d — n him — was far from kindling; and of generous indignation he betrayed not a trace. Instead, he hummed, he hawed, he fidgeted, and as we sat, our heads together in the circle of light shed by the wretched candles, with the eyes of one or the other ever on the door, which we had not ventured to close lest we should awaken suspicion, his hesitation was as plain to me as it seemed cowardly. True, the rogue faisait mine d’ avoir le coeur sensible; but it was so ill done that I saw that he did not care a jot for the girl, and whether he did or no, that he had no will to comply with my wishes.

  “So!” he muttered. “Sad, to be sure, mein Herr! Very sad! Wunderbar! But, fortunately, it is not as if the young lady were a friend of the Wohlgeborener Herr? Or as if—” imploring patience by a gesture—” a letter to Her Highness the Grand Duchess would not—”

  I cut him short. “Would not — what?” I retorted. “What good would a letter do, man? And while the letter was travelling to Zerbst, what do you think would be happening to the young lady? And where would she be when the answer came?”

  He could not reply to that. There was no reply. But his mouth remained as obstinately set as before. “To be sure! To be sure, that is so,” he agreed humbly. “His Excellency must know. He is the best judge. And if he were in his own country” — with a sly upward glance— “it might be his duty to set other things aside—”

  “Duty!” I took him up short. “ You’ll leave me to decide on my duty, sir, if you please,” I cried. “ That is my business.”

  “Of course!” he assented smoothly. “ Of course!” fingering the cloth and keeping his eyes fixed on it. “But I thought that the Herr’s business compelled him to be at Perleberg—”

  But I could not suffer that — the pig! “D — n your impudence, man,” I exclaimed, “ My duty and my business!” staring at him: “What are you talking about? What are they to you? I picked you up out of charity, and you preach to me! Gott im Himmel, have done! Have done! Do you hear? And bend your mind to this. Are you going to help me or are you not? That is the only question for you!”

  “Oh, dear, dear!” he stammered, shaking his head. “ Enter das Weib and exit die Weisheit!” And as I scowled at this fresh impertinence, “Who aims at two stools falls between both!”

  “If you mouth me,” I cried, enraged by his persistence, “ one more proverb — —”

  But he was irrepressible. “Who pushes on wins; who breaks back, loses!” he murmured, shaking his head at the cloth.

  It seemed impossible to stay his tongue except by force, and, “In one word,” I asked in despair, “are you going to help me? Or must I act alone?”

  He fingere d his cleft chin in a pitiable state of perplexity, and it seemed to me that it was just the turn of a coin whether he persisted in his obstinacy or no. But of a sudden he seemed to make up his mind, and with a final shrug which disclaimed responsibility, he gave way. “Very well, mein Herr, if it must be so,” he said, and he sighed, “I will do what you order — what must be, must be.” But having once yielded, I am bound to say that he gave no further trouble, but, on the contrary, showed a quickness of grasp and a readiness to play his part that a good deal surprised me.

  Ten minutes later, the landlord being in the room, I made the discovery that I had lost one of my fur-lined gloves, and I bade the sulky fellow see if I had dropped it in the hall. He took out one of our candles and searched for it, but, of course, he did not find it. On that: “Do you look — look outside,” I commanded Grussbaum; “I may have dropped it as I stepped out of the caliche.”

  He rose to do so, and the landlord, who had secured the outer door, had to unbar it. “If it is not there,” I called after Grussbaum, “see if it is in the carriage. And don’t come back without it!” I added, peevishly. “It must be somewhere.”

  As I had calculated, the landlord did not refasten the door — he was moving in and out, clearing the table. And I took care to keep him busy; now ordering another bottle of wine and now bidding him bring more wood and see that a brazier was taken to my room, if there was no stove in it. When the man returned after seeing to this, I still held him a minute or two in talk, and then sent him out with a message to the postboys, enjoining haste in the morning. We would start at six to the minute.

  Altogether I kept the fellow employed for fifteen minutes by my watch, and then, assured that Grussbaum should have reached the police-station at the hamlet, I found one more errand for my sluggish friend, and while he was about it, I slipped into my cloak and stepping softly out of the house, I pulled the door to after me.

  The slight snowfall had ceased and, though there was no moon, the stars were shining in a frosty sky. The house stood, as I have said, in a clearing at the point where four roads met. Its front looked on the road by which we had come, but its flank, prolonged by the stables, ran along the Fehrbellin road. Having ascertained this, I went no farther towards the stables, for though the air was keen there might be loiterers in the yard, and the last thing I wished was to be seen.

  The Waechters, we had decided, if they we
re not harboured upstairs, must be tucked away at the back, and my aim was to reach the rear by passing round the nearer flank of the house, where the forest, dwindling at close quarters to stumps and isolated trees, still pressed in close to the building. It was not only that this was the quieter side, but I calculated that the light which we had viewed as we approached, and which was not visible from the road before the house, must proceed from some window on this side.

  I had not felt my way a dozen yards, keeping within a pace or two of the house, before I tripped over a woodpile and got a heavy fall. I was bruised and shaken, but not much hurt, and fortunately my fur cloak deadened the sound — fortunately, I say, for I had not, moving with greater care, gone more than another ten paces before there shone across my path a broad beam of light; probably the one that had greeted our arrival.

  It issued, as far as I could see, from a building lower than the body of the house, and it was hidden from the eyes of any one standing before the inn by a projecting chimney-breast. As I stole on towards it, trying every step before I took it, I passed a casement, from a crack in the shutter of which there also issued a thin arrow of light; but intent on the farther window, which I judged to be unshuttered, I passed by this, using the utmost caution as I did so.

  I reached the one on which my hopes of learning something rested. But here I experienced a moment of acute disappointment. The sill of the window was a couple of feet above my head, and I could discern no more of the room than the rafters and laths — in some places stripped of plaster — of a grimy and smoke-blackened ceiling. I lurked awhile and listened, but caught no sound. I tried if retreating a little way from the window would help me, and I succeeded in bringing a part of the walls within sight.

  Still, I could see neither light nor occupant, and I drew back farther, only to come unexpectedly and sharply against a tree-stump. The collision might well have hurt me, but it was destined to help me, for quickly — the stump was about three feet high — I climbed upon it, balanced myself with care, and with my eyes raised above the sill, I looked into the room.

  I could not have been better placed, for two of the occupants of the place were directly within my line of sight, and they were the women whom I had hoped to see. The girl lay on a bed, her face hidden, her clasped hands stretched nervelessly before her, her whole attitude eloquent of fatigue and dejection. A few feet from her Frau Waechter sat beside the light, her face turned towards the bed, her features set in deep thought. She was watching her companion, and watching her with a strange, intent, brooding look which I found it hard to translate, yet which instinctively filled me with apprehension.

  It was not so much that her gaze, her very stillness seemed to me sinister, but I read in her look a kind of shrinking, as if the woman saw what she did not wish to see, and, evil as she was, shuddered at the picture called up by her thoughts. If the girl on whom she looked had lain a corpse before her, and a corpse through her act, then I could have understood that look — it was so I could have fancied her gazing on her handiwork and trembling in her soul. For as she saw the girl now — so I could imagine her thinking — she would see her in her dreams.

  But, thank God, that fancy was not justified; the girl was, at any rate, alive. I saw her move, though ever so slightly, and I fancied that she sighed or groaned. She was not dead, and, thank Heaven, we were here to save her. Of the men of the party I could see nothing, and presently, with the same care with which I had climbed up, I descended. I stole back towards the front of the inn. Grussbaum should have returned by this time, and not a minute longer than was necessary would I leave the girl in the power of these people.

  But as I passed the other window the tiny arrow of light which shone from a crack in the shutters tempted my curiosity. It might be well to know what was passing there also, and it would delay me but a moment to do so, for the window was lower than the other — so low, that to bring my eye to the chink, which was at the foot of the shutter, I had to stoop.

  Once I had looked in, I remained, fascinated as well as puzzled, by what I saw. The two men were there, but what in the world were they doing? Waechter was on his feet beside a bare wooden table, holding, of all the strange things I could think of, a large iron spoon in his hand, while his eyes dwelt intently on something about which the dwarf, seated at the table, was busy. What this was I could not for a while make out. But by and by the lad moved and disclosed his work.

  He was sawing off, laboriously and with a common table-knife, the thin end of — again of all strange things — a tin extinguisher! I had hardly grasped the fact, when the tip of the thing came off, and laying it aside, he held the extinguisher to his eye. After looking through it he handed it to his companion, who also examined it, measuring, as it seemed to me, the size of the hole which had been made. Still unsatisfied, he followed suit by peering through it, then he thrust it — and this I thought oddest of all — into his ear. As he did so I caught through window and shutter a faint sound — the harsh, jarring laugh of the dwarf.

  What, what on earth were they doing? I could not conceive, and though time pressed, and I knew that Grussbaum might be waiting for me in the road, I could not drag myself away with my curiosity unsated. I must unriddle the riddle if it were possible. I must see more. And for more I had not long to wait, though it enlightened me little. Waechter laid down the extinguisher and took up in its stead the iron spoon.

  He wrapped a cloth about the handle, and placing something in the bowl of the spoon, he held the bowl in the flame of the lamp which lighted them. The lad rose to his feet that he might see the better, and the two, stooping and intent, pored over the spoon.

  They were heating something, or possibly melting something. But what was it? What could it all mean? What were they going to do? Though I shivered, cloaked as I was, in the keen frosty air, I could not draw myself away. I must see it out. I watched, and at length the operation, whatever it was, came to an end, and Karl moved away. He brought a piece of wood from a corner and laid it on the table.

  Then he took up the funnel, which he had made out of the extinguisher, and protecting the hand in which he held it with a corner of the cloth, he poised the thing, thin end downwards, over the wood. Waechter removed the spoon from its position in the flame and quickly, but carefully, poured the contents of the bowl into the funnel. I imagined — but I was not sure — that as he tilted the spoon I caught the gleam of metal.

  Then — nothing happened; and I drew the conclusion that the experiment had failed, for I caught the sound of an oath and an exclamation of disappointment. Baffled, for I could make nothing of what I had seen, I substituted ear for eye, pressed it against the hole, and caught the words “pewter — cools — quickly!” And then the word “lead.” But I could make little of that either, and I could wait no longer. I crept softly away, and emerged a few seconds later on the road, where I found Grussbaum and a couple of men awaiting me in front of the inn. I joined them.

  “Come,” I said. “I have seen them, and they are here.” In a dozen words I explained where they were.

  “That will be the old house,” one of the men, who appeared to be the chief, decided. “We must go through the kitchen. There is no other way to it.”

  “Then let us go,” I said. “We have lost enough time already,” though, indeed, the lost time lay at my door.

  “But steady, mein Herr, steady a moment, if you please,” the policeman rejoined. “We don’t want to get into trouble. Gott bewahre! You are sure, I suppose, that this young woman—”

  “I am sure that these people have carried her off by force,” I answered warmly. “I am prepared to swear to that.” And I explained as shortly as I could who she was, and her position in the Grand Duchess’s household — which impressed the man, as that kind of thing does impress Germans. “And this man and woman,” I continued, “by whatever means they have got her into their power mean no good by her. They are the lowest of the low; criminals, adventurers — I am sure of that — everything of the wor
st.”

  The man nodded. “So! “he commented. “So! Well, mein Herr, we will hear what they say.”

  But he spoke in more measured tones than I liked, and I was annoyed. Still, in action he showed himself strenuous enough. We found the inn door on the latch, and we entered; but I fancied only just in time, for we caught the landlord making away from us down the dark passage, a light in his hand.

  The officer called to him to wait; we overtook him, and without ceremony we pushed by him and through a dirty neglected kitchen to a door in the farther wall. The officer knocked on this, and at once the little dog within began to bark. We heard persons moving, but no one answered the summons, and our man tried the door and found it locked. He called on those inside to open, and at the same time he thrust at the door with his knee.

  “What is it?” cried an angry voice, amid the shrill barking of the dog. “What do you want? Tausend Teufel, are we never to be at rest!”

  “We are the police!” the officer returned, and he shook the door again. “Do you hear, open! Open!”

  “But what is it? What—”

  “Open! Open at once! Admit us, or we break in the door!”

  “Patience! Patience! We are doing it!” Quickly the key was turned, the door thrown back. “ What is the matter?”

  I had looked, I own, to find them cringing, panic-stricken, criminals caught in the act. But they confronted us with surprising boldness, even with anger; and the woman in particular — no doubt the delay had allowed her time to enter — stood forward and challenged us haughtily. “What is the matter?” she asked. She had plucked up the dog and held it in her arms, where it cuddled, darting from time to time angry whines at us. “Why are we disturbed? What is the meaning of this? If you are really police—”

  “We are,” the officer said sharply. “We are in search of a young woman who is said to be with you, meine Frau.”

  The woman stared at him in well-acted surprise. “Do you mean my daughter?” she exclaimed. “She is the only young woman with us.”