Chapter XVIII - Another Escape
The roof was steeply peaked. I walked along the gutter, leaning against the slope of the roof. I heard them struggling at the window behind me. I wanted to run, but the slope was too awkward. I continued along the gutter, heading back for the flat roof of the new part.
There was a loud crack and a shattering sound as they broke apart the window. The roof was almost above the fog, but still I could not see them well. One dark figure climbed onto the roof, then another. I moved faster. I could see the glow of the fire below. Smoke poured up, stinging my eyes, as I came to the corner of the building. I climbed onto the flat roof.
I coughed and staggered out of the smoke. Three forms were now on the roof behind me. They moved toward me, but they were hampered by the slope. I ran across the flat part, putting distance between me and them. Then I got to the end. I paced back and forth, feeling the edge to find a drain pipe or something to climb down on. There was nothing, and the three shadowy forms had got to the flat part of the roof. They were narrowing my area of escape. I looked around wildly. I made out the top of a tree nearby. I could easily reach it by jumping, but it was only a sapling. It was too thin. It would never hold my weight. It would bend. It would...bend?
I took three steps back and made a running jump at the tree, wrapping my arms and legs around it. At first I continued forward and down, as if nothing would slow or stop my fall. Then, as I was sure I was about to strike the ground, the tree resisted, and my flight was slowed. I was now back in the fog, and I couldn’t see much, but I sensed that the tree had reached its lowest point and I let go before it could snap me back up.
I rolled and looked up. With the help of the flames in the windows I could make out the outline of the house. Perhaps the fog was clearing. I still could not see the men, but I could hear their voices.
“After her!” said Tybalt.
“He’s gone,” said one. “Let’s go back before the fire gets too big.”
“Cowards!” said Tybalt, and I heard steps and after a moment a nearby thud. He had come down the same way I did, though from the crack I heard the tree must have broken under his weight. I scrambled to my feet.
“It’s no use,” said Tybalt. “I can hear you.”
I tried to run quietly, but I could not, and the attempt only slowed me down. A spray of wetness hit my face, and then my hands. The fog was melting into rain, and its welcome cover dissolving. The flaming house could now push back the darkness. It became a torch for Tybalt to catch me by. I thought I had better be quick and find a hiding place before all cover of mist was off. I thought I saw the stable ahead. The door was at the other side, but on my side was a large set of bushes. I dived into them, rolling into the center, and lay still. If Tybalt followed me he would become too tangled in branches to actually catch me, and I could hear him coming and escape out the other side.
Tybalt did not try to follow me. I saw his boots running up as I lay on my belly in the mud, rain dripping down the back of my neck. He stopped before the bushes.
“If you try to leave your hiding place I can hear you, Pipsqueak,” he said. “And perhaps even see you now. I don’t mind a little rain.”
I watched the rain splatter his boots as he began to pace. I knew if I held still I would be safe until the marquis came. Now that the fog was clearing I was sure he would come soon.
“You must have seen what happened,” he said in an exasperated voice. “You must have...although not with the door locked. That’s right. But what about the keyhole? Didn’t you see through that?”
He stopped and listened. He was crazy if he thought I was going to give myself away by talking. He shifted impatiently.
“Come now, don’t pretend you weren’t looking through the keyhole. I know you. You couldn’t help yourself.” He paused. “I don’t suppose you could see much in that direction. Well, you must have heard it at least.”
I was getting a maddening itch in my nose. If I moved, I would rustle the branches. I put my face down in the dirt and tried to rub my nose there. It was mud by now, but it helped slightly. Tybalt crouched a little and seemed to be scanning the bushes for me. I hoped the marquis would come soon. I hoped he would come at all. I was beginning to have my doubts.
“You couldn’t see through the door, and the keyhole wasn’t much. Ah, but under the door,” he chatted on, but still pacing, still looking for me. Oh, my nose itched. I wiggled as much as I could without making noise. “Under the door, hm. What could you see under the door? The floor. Feet, well shoes, anyway. Or boots. But what could that tell you? Everybody wears boots. Very similar boots. Except for color. Did you see what color? Or...,” he stopped. “He wasn’t wearing any boots at all!”
He had stopped directly in front of me, the rain spattering mud on his once shiny black boots. All I could see of him was his boots, just as back in the closet, when the boots had leaped at her. I will never forget those boots....
Brown! The boots had been brown, not black.
“You didn’t do it?” I said, not intending to speak aloud, but I was both shocked and relieved to realize it.
“What?” he said distractedly. Then we both realized that I had given away my position. He dove in to the bushes and grabbed me by the hair. I tried to wiggle away, but by then he had my collar too, and he dragged me out of the brush.
“You didn’t do it, then?” I repeated. “You didn’t kill her?”
He looked at me suspiciously.
“I didn’t kill him,” he said. His emphasis scared me.
“Then you did kill her?” I asked.
“Her who?”
“Mrs. MacGuffin!”
“She’s not dead yet, as far as I know.”
The sudden vision blazed into my mind of the poor woman lying wounded in the burning house.
“So you burned her up alive!” I shoved him and started to run for the house. I do not know what I thought I could do, but that vision was like a hot spark, driving me to do something. He grabbed my wrist and held while I flailed wildly for the house.
“Wait! Wait!” he said. “That wasn’t her. That was Sigmond!”
He repeated it twice before it sank in.
“Sigmond?” I said. “Not her?”
“Yes, Sigmond. Not her. She escaped.” The energy went out of me, and he leaned back to take a deep breath. He did not let go, however. “I couldn’t figure out why you would think I would kill Sigmond. Now I understand.”
“You would have killed her,” I said accusingly.
“I might have,” he admitted. Then he leaned forward threateningly. “And I might commit murder yet if you don’t stop making trouble for me.”
He pulled my arm behind my back and looked around. He pushed me toward the house.
“So it was Sigmond, lying dead,” I said. I was beginning to collect my thoughts.
“Yes. Someone shot him and then stole his boots. Poor fool.”
“Oh, no,” I said, realizing what must have happened. “Do you know if there was a gun in Sigmond’s room?”
“He kept one in his writing table.”
That is what she had found when she was looking for the key! She had found something useful, all right. Tybalt had stopped to look at me.
“Do you know what happened to his boots?”
“She needed them to escape,” I said.
“She killed him? Well, I’ll be damned!” He then paused and looked thoughtful. “Actually, I just might be, if I’m not careful. That woman is running loose with a gun and a score to settle.”
He spun around, pulling me close in front of him like a shield.
“You’re afraid of her?”
“She killed him, didn’t she? I’d best warn Hugo. He’s the one she really hates.”
We began to circle the house. The fire had spread quickly. Flames licked out of most of the windows now, and even the tree I had climbed
was smoldering. People were running back and forth. Tybalt called to them not to bother about putting it out. They seemed to understand, and they melted away into the darkness. He called a warning about the woman to them as they went. Then we came round to the front, where Tybalt stopped to survey the situation.
Hugo’s coach was waiting in the drive, the horses stamping and twitching in fear of the fire. The coachman was standing by them, trying to keep them calm, as they tried to bolt.
“Where is His Highness?” called Tybalt. The man had his hands full with the horses, and he only shook his head.
The cook came running around the side of the house, and Tybalt called the question to her. She gestured behind her and kept running. At that moment there was a shout.
“Tybalt! Max!” It was Hugo. He did not sound frightened, but his shout was interrupted by a loud sound, a pistol shot. Then another. The horses bolted and ran down the drive.
“Oh, damn,” said Tybalt. “That sounds to me like the end of Hugo, does it to you?”
“I don’t know,” I said quietly. The relief I had felt when I learned that the woman was not dead had worn off. Now it was coming to me that I had still witnessed a violent death. And perhaps this was another. I’d had enough. Where was the marquis?
“Well, I’ll wager it was the end of somebody. If Hugo, well, that lets you off the hook, Pipsqueak. Even I can’t hide that murder. And the end of his money too. Damn.”
He released my arm. I did not go anywhere. It did not occur to me that I ought to. The damage was done. Over the roar of the fire, I heard the sound of the frightened carriage horses thundering back toward us. They seemed to have multiplied. There were more shots, and shouts.
The marquis had arrived.
“They’re here!” I said, jumping forward. Tybalt’s hands fell hard on my shoulders.
“Sorry, Pipsqueak,” he said. “That’s Furlenhaur, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Don’t be so proud of yourself. That just means I’m going to need you to get out of here safely.”
He twisted my arm once again behind my back. It was beginning to feel natural that way. He put his hand on my throat.
“Don’t try to yell,” he said, guiding me to the stable. “It won’t do you any good.”
In the stable he had me take up his saddle and bridle with my free arm, and he pushed me ahead of him into Regis’ stall. He pushed me all the way up against the manger. He twisted my arm harder and tightened his grip on my throat.
“Now stay still, and keep quiet.”
He let go and backed his horse out of the stall to where he could saddle him and watch me. Outside I heard faint sounds of men and horses. When he finished tightening the girth, Tybalt listened too, for just a minute. His hands were on the saddle, his attention not on me. His pistol was right there within reach.
I sprang forward, grabbing the gun handle as I went, and somersaulted out past him, landing on my feet. He jumped after me, but I pointed the gun at him. He stopped.
“Give that back,” he said quietly.
“We’ll just wait here for the marquis,” I said.
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Don’t I?”
He looked me up and down. He was thinking. I did not like that. I realized I would have to wait. He could pull a trick if I let him move.
“Have you ever seen a hanging?” he suddenly asked. “Not a pretty way to kill a man. Do you want to see me hanged?”
“I don’t have to watch,” I said. “But they won’t hang you. Not if you give yourself up. I can tell them you didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m a conspirator,” he said. “And who would believe you?”
“The marquis would.”
“Then he’d lock me up. Prison, Pipsqueak. It would be worse. Me? Locked up? You’re just like me. You know it would be worse.” He leaned forward a little. “Why are you here in your little trousers, with your hair cropped off, pointing that trembling gun at me? Hm? Freedom. That’s what it is. Those skirts imprisoned your legs, didn’t they. And you’re getting old enough, soon they’ll be adding corsets and hoops and making you smile and look pretty. Freedom, Pipsqueak.”
I said nothing and he began to fidget.
“You’ll have to kill me,” he announced impatiently. That did not back me down either. He frowned. “So you think you have the nerve to do it?” He crouched as if to jump at me.
“Don’t!” I said. I jumped back. He paused. Even if I did not shoot him, the mere sound of a shot would bring them running. He licked his lower lip and glanced toward the house and the commotion.
“Anna, have I ever done anything to harm you?” he asked. “That first night I could have killed you. I didn’t. I could have killed you just now. Hugo wanted it. Now here you are threatening to kill me. Is that fair? Pipsqueak...Anna...we’re friends....”
He went on quickly, but at some length, about what good friends we were. He was very convincing, but I was not listening. I was thinking about why I was standing there in trousers with my hair cropped off. I realized that he had only brought it up as a point of sympathy, but he was right.
For the sake of freedom, I lowered the gun.
He did not say goodbye, or thank you. He did not even finish his sentence. The instant he saw that I relented he simply vanished, he and Regis, into the rain and remaining mist. Like a wild thing, caught and released and never a look back. That in itself made me feel I did right. I realized that the marquis was right, he was destructive and dangerous, but I thought, perhaps I was destructive and dangerous too. Less so, but break one rule and you weaken them all, right? Where did that leave me? It left me to face my consequences. His mention of prison had made me think of Andre. I had a duty to Andre. Tybalt was free because I had to go back. I had a conscience, where he did not, so I would never really be free.
I put the pistol on the floor and rubbed my knee. In all the excitement I had forgotten about it. Now it reminded me of itself with painful throbbing. Well, it was going to get a chance to heal at last. I limped out.
All of the windows were ablaze now, but the rain still kept it under control. I was so wet already that I hardly noticed the rain myself. The blaze pushed back the chill.
I limped around to the side, where I saw a group of men and horses. The marquis was among them, talking to a soldier who held Jupiter.
“Sir!” I called. He turned.
“Albert!” he cried and came running. “You’re alive.”
“Yes, sir.”
“One of the prisoners said you were locked up in the house—“
“I was.”
“—and another said you’d fallen off the roof.”
“I jumped.”
He paused for a very long time.
“You’re all right then?”
“Just fine.”
“We found Jupiter in the woods. I must say I was worried.” He put his arm around my shoulders and walked me back toward the group. “Do you know what’s happened to the lady?”
“She stole Sigmond’s boots,” I said. “They were brown and she killed him because he married her and she killed Hugo too.”
“You’re not making much sense, Albert.”
“I know, sir.” I was shaking all of a sudden. I felt like crying, or like just falling down.
“Sit down and rest. Kraus!” he called to a soldier. “Let’s get that coach of Hugo’s hitched up again.”
“Yes, sir,” said the soldier and he rushed off.
The Adventure of Anna the Great Page 18
