CHAPTER IV
HOT ON THE TRAIL
The men had disappeared, and there seemed no further need for caution.As Warren approached nearer, he noted the dark, tumbledown building,which looked as though it had been a ruin for centuries, dismal anduninhabited. Only one thing was noteworthy. The door, a stout oneheavily barred with ornamental straps of ancient and rusty iron, wasfitted with strong, modern hinges, and had been closely fitted in anewframe. Warren's keen eye quickly grasped these details as he saunteredpast, and stopped before 'the building, but what he did not see, andcould not guess, was the tiny auger hole bored close to one of the ironfrets. Behind that hole stood a man in whose cunning brain suspicionlurked; and Warren did not know that after that close scrutiny thetrained eye of one of the basest murderers and criminals in Poland wouldnow recognize him, no matter where they met.
Warren knew that he must gain access to the den, but how?
Thinking rapidly, he resolved to wait until the men again left theplace, when he would rap at the door, and try to get in on whateverexcuse he might need to invent when the moment arrived. He crossed thestreet, and entered an abandoned building. For two hours he waited inbiding, never suspecting the anxious scrutiny he himself was undergoing.
His wrist watch told him that noon was past. There was no sign of lifein the street. Remembering the loads of provisions that the men hadcarried, he decided that they did not intend to come out of their hidingplace until nightfall. That would give him time to return, report to theanxious watchers at home, and consult with Ivan and the other BoyScouts.
With Warren, to decide was to act. He hurried through the shatteredstreets, wondering what the careful Evelyn had kept for him to eat.
As he turned the corner he saw before the house a group of people whoseemed to be regarding it curiously. Warren hastened his steps. Pushingthrough the group, he entered. The door, torn from its hinges, swungagainst the wall. In the hall a heavy chest of drawers was overturnedand the drawers piled together on the floor. The contents were scatteredeverywhere. Calling the names of the family, Warren dashed through therooms, vainly hoping to find some trace of his people, or someexplanation of the new disaster. Returning to the door, he appealed tothe bystanders. What had happened? They told him that they had come downthe street just in time to see the soldiers leading off a group ofpeople. More than that they did not know. They supposed that they werenow dead. It was what happened in war.
Warren returned to the house, his head whirling. This seemed the lastand most crushing blow. To have such a thing happen just as he was aboutto rescue his little sister and reunite the family! He could not imaginewhy this thing should have been done. Why should any soldiers molestAmerican citizens?
Utterly overcome, he sank down in a chair by the window and leaned hishead on the sill. All gone! He did not know what to do. His quick andclever brain for the moment refused to act. He raised his head andlooked dully out into the street where the group of curious people wasslowly moving away. For a long time he stared, then his eyes suddenlyset themselves on something nearer. Dumfounded, unbelieving, he glared.It seemed that he could hear Evelyn's voice, Evelyn's own words.
"If anyone kidnapped me," she had said, "I think if I had my diamond onI would try to scratch a message on the window pane."
Indeed, her mother's ring had served her well. Before Warren's eyes, onthe glass, Evelyn had left her message:
"Arrested as spies. Ac't dad's book. Taken to camp. Find Ivan. TellConsul. Help."
Clutching the arms of his chair, Warren sat staring at the message onthe window pane. He read it over and over. A curious feeling that hiseyes were tricking him possessed him. He reached out and rubbed themessage slowly, fully expecting it to disappear. The letters felt roughunder his fingers. It was really written there with Evelyn's diamond.Still unbelief possessed him. How had it happened that she had foreseenthis dreadful mischance clearly enough, in some mysterious way, to planthe delivery of the saving message?
As Warren looked, the events of the last few crowded days seemed to riseup and bear him down under their horror and immensity. He sat clutchingthe arms of his chair, and with unseeing eyes stared and stared at theletters. All at once he felt very young, very helpless, very lonely.
America, his own dear country, with its safety and its careless,unthinking haphazard hospitality for every living person who seeks hershores; America seemed suddenly to be set farther than the fartheststar.
Like most American boys, Warren was clever, shrewd and ingenious. Lifewith Professor Morris had trained him in ingenuity and efficiency. Sincehis earliest remembrance it had fallen to his lot to act as the head ofhis family, making decisions that usually are the sole right of fathersand guardians. But now, under conditions of horror and tragedy, herealized that he was after all only a boy; and the thought came to himthat he and his, dear and infinitely precious as they were to eachother, counted not at all in the great tragedy of war.
Who was there to help? The American Consul was powerless for the time,if he could be found. Warren knew that the portion of the city where hehad lived was a shapeless ruin.
The boy continued to sit motionless in his chair, desperately,desperately puzzling the dark mystery.
Gradually in Warren's dazed mind the whole affair took definite shape.They were gone; arrested on suspicion. For the moment at least he feltsure they were safe, even in the hands of an enemy who had shownthemselves utterly cruel and heartless. He felt sure that if they weresuspected of being spies every effort would be made to make them confessbefore they were executed, if it did indeed come near that question.
But "Find Ivan." What did that mean? Evidently Ivan was not with them.As though in answer to his thought, Warren heard or thought he heard afaint shout. He listened. It was repeated, with a sound of pounding andbanging. Once more Warren searched the house, beginning with the olddusty, rambling attic set close under the great beams of the old house.Down he hurried, from room to room, looking in presses, under beds, andlistening in each room.
As he reached the kitchen, the sound seemed clearer. It was Ivan'svoice. He opened the cellar stairs and went down. Once, years, evengenerations past, the house had been the residence of a noble. Thecellar was not the one or two rooms of the modern house. It was vast andvaulted and contained a dozen dark, unlighted apartments, all withheavy, iron-barred, oaken doors.
Professor Morris said that two of the rooms had been used as dungeonsand it was in one of these that Warren found Ivan. He stumbled over himas he opened the door. The boy was bound, but lying on his back, so hadbeen able to hammer on the door with his feet. The sound of pounding hadcarried even better than his shouts.
Warren hastily untied the cords that secured him and helped him up thestairs. He was stiff and sore from the cramped position, but once in theupper rooms, he took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell Warren theevents of the morning.
Once more Professor Morris was the cause of the disaster. The Professorwas, fortunately, of uncommon type. He was a modest man--so modest thatit even ceased to be a virtue, and became an annoying and irritatingtrait. He never stood up for himself, nor for his family in any way.
The saying, "Generous to a fault" likewise applied to him. He was aspendthrift in kindness, giving not only money needed for himself andthe children, but bestowing his time when he needed it himself. Hislearning he gave recklessly, too, writing long, learned articles forlittle or no pay, and without a thought that the material given away wasjust so much capital.
But of one thing he was jealous, careful and touchy. His book, hisalmost completed work on Warsaw. It was to be a book of books, so clear,so accurate, so full of new f acts that it would be a treasure among theliterary treasures of his time. Professor Morris believed in the bookwith the conviction that comes to writers when they have done somethingreally good. He knew it was fine. It was more than a history of thebeautiful and fated city. It was written in such golden, flowing Englishthat the hardest and driest facts in its pages were polishe
d and placedlike jewels of great price in their descriptive setting. And they werejewels. He had mined them out of strange places in that ancient town. Hehad taken his time and in digging for his beloved facts, he had foundmany an unexpected wonder.
Knowing his father as he did, Warren could see the story told by Ivan asplainly as though he had been present. One thing made him smile as herecalled it. His father would not use a typewriter, and anything writtenin his strange, cramped hand would look suspicions at once. And he knew,too, that his father would resent even the touch of strangers on thebeloved pages. He smiled a little bitterly.
"Go on, Ivan," he said. "Let's hear it all."
"A detachment of soldiers came down the street," said Ivan, rubbing hislame muscles, "and as they came they looked through every house. Isuppose they were on the lookout for troops of our soldiers. When theyreached this place, your father met them at door and talked a momentwith the officer in charge. Of course Evelyn and I did not know whatthey said, but the officer grew angry and your father just stood thereand smiled and shook his head. Then Evelyn went to your father and assoon as the officer saw her he bowed very low, and in English said,'Prettee, prettee.' Evelyn came back to us and took the baby from Jack.
"Then the door slammed, and we heard the big bolt fall, and your fatherdragged that big chest across it and came in as pleased as could be. Hesaid, 'There, I have settled that! Such impertinence! They wanted tosearch my house!'
"But at that, blows fell on the door and presently it fell and thesoldiers rushed in. Your father had his book and was trying to hide itin the lining of a chair. Of course they at once thought it must beplans or something of the sort, and Professor would not tell them athing and we couldn't because we could not make them understand that itwas just a book about the history of Warsaw. When they took it from yourfather, of course he resisted, and that settled the matter. We had to goto the headquarters. Of course, your father would have followed his bookwherever that went. As we started, the officer took Evelyn by the arm,and I think I hit him pretty hard for it. Anyway he gave a command, anda dozen big fellows took me and tied me up and carried me down here. Itis a good thing you came, Warren." He shuddered as he thought of thepossible ending that his adventure might have had.
Warren was deep in thought. One event pressed so closely on another thatthings lost their significance and importance.
"We have got to get a hustle on now," he said.
"Your American hustle-on; that means act quickly, does it not?" saidIvan. "We must indeed hustle on. Let us find where they are, and thenapply to your Consul."
"That's all right," said Warren, "but I don't think they are in anyimmediate danger and I think the first thing to do is to got hold ofElinor."
"Get hold of her," said Ivan. "Do you know where she is?"
"Yes, I think I have found her," said Warren and commencing at themoment when the boys parted on the street, he gave Ivan an account ofhis morning's discoveries.
"Good! Good!" said Ivan. "We will go together this time, and together wewill rescue our pretty little Elinor. Have you made any plans?"
"No, I haven't," confessed Warren. "I don't know what ails me; I seem tobe perfectly brainless today. It looks like I am losing everybody thatbelongs to me."
Ivan shrugged his shoulders. "Look at me," he said. "My mother longdead, my father somewhere on the field of battle, or lying dead in thetrenches. I do not know; but I must not think. What I want to do is tosave Professor Morris, my second father, and Evelyn and Jack and Elinor,who are as sisters and brother to me. Let us start and plan as we go."
"Have you any money?" asked Warren. "I have not a single copper."
"Nor I," said Ivan.
"We ought to have some," said Warren. "We might have to bribe thosepeople."
Ivan laughed, and felt down his blouse. "This might help," he said. "Ihate to give the small one up. It has been in the family, always worn bythe eldest son, for more generations than I know; but if we have to giveit, it will come back. It always has." He offered Warren two rings,magnificent jewels.
Warren shook his head. "I hope we won't have to use them," he said.
"What of that?" said Ivan. "Jewels, even family jewels, do not count formuch beside the dear ones. Ah, Warren," said Ivan, "it is hard for boysto talk, even here in Poland, where it is easier to say what is in one'sheart than it seems to be with you Americans. But let me tell you nowall that I think. We do not know what we may get into today, whatperil--maybe death. I feel danger approaching; I cannot say how. All thepeople of my house have been able to foresee disaster. What it is I knownot. So I will say that so long as I do live, I will never cease to loveyou and yours. I want you to take this ring that we have held so longand if we are parted, wear it for the sake of Prince Ivan of Poland."
Warren swallowed hastily. "Same here!" he said. "You know darned wellI'm strong for you, Old Ivy Scout." He felt hastily in all his pockets."Haven't a thing to swap," he continued, "not a--" He drew out his handwith something in it. "Guess this will have to do," he said. "It's abuffalo nickel, but I brought it from home. You can have it."
"Thank you so much. I will always keep it," said Ivan. It was so. Yearsafter, if Warren could have looked into the future, he would have seen amagnificent figure at court, one decoration on his jeweled breast beinga coin around which sparkled a double row of priceless diamonds. Thecoin was only, a nickel but that mattered not to Prince Ivan.
As the boys approached the street where Warren had located the house ofthe thieves, they decided to hide for a little in the ruins across thestreet, and watch for awhile in the hope that the door might open, orthe two men come out.
They made the approach one at a time, and settled down for a long wait.An hour or more went by, and all at once Warren stuck out a long leg andnoiselessly kicked Ivan. The oaken door across the street was ajar. Justa crack, and for a long time it remained so, while the boys scarcelybreathed.
It opened slowly, and the two men came cautiously out. They did notglance across the street, but looking carefully up and down the crookedalley, closed the door carelessly, and went off at a brisk gait withouta glance behind.
The boys looked at each other.
"Now!" said Ivan.
"Wait!" answered Warren. "Give them time. No doubt they will be gonemost of the night."
There was a long silence, then glancing at his watch, Warren said,"Come! Do you see that door? They did not latch it. I don't believethere is a soul over there but the woman. There is just one thing to do.Go over and look in; and if she is alone we will rush her, tie her upand get off with the children. We can do it."
"That's the only thing to do," said Ivan. "Let's go."
The street was deserted as they crossed it and stepped close to theoaken door. It was ajar, and they could see the interior of the dark,prison-like room. The woman was there bending over a pot that swung on acrane in the fireplace. A heap of filthy rags was in a corner near by,and lying there was little Elinor and the strange child Rika. A sob rosein Warren's throat as he saw his sister, so pale and thin and terrifiedshe looked. He heard Ivan's breath come sharply.
"Let's rush!" he said.
"You can't!" answered Ivan. "Don't you see the chain on the inside ofthe door?"
"It's light, we can break that," answered Warren. "Get yourselftogether. When I say three, throw your whole weight. Grab the woman asquickly as you can."
"All right," said Ivan.
Warren stepped back a space and held himself for a spring.
"One, two," he counted slowly. "Three" was never uttered. He heard astrange cry from Ivan; and as he did so, a frightful blow from someheavy, blunt instrument struck him squarely. He crumpled downunconscious.
Ivan, behind him, evaded the blow aimed at his head by the secondruffian, and quick as a panther stood back to the wall, gazing at hisassailant.
"Hands down," said the man, grinning evilly. "Hands down before I brainyou!"
"What do you want with us?" demanded Ivan.
The man laughed.
"What would we want of eavesdroppers and spies? This is our house, pooras it is. We will guard it when young thieves like you come peering inthe cracks. What did you think to steal of honest men as poor asyourselves? Your friend here deserves his broken head. Must I give youone, or will you come with me peaceably?"
"I'll come if you will tell me what you are going to do with us," saidIvan.
Again the man laughed, and with his foot shoved the body of Warren lyingmotionless on the ground.
"Come on," said the other man. "Why waste words? Get hold of him andbring him along!"
"Let me have my way," said the man standing over Ivan. "This amuses me.Come, come, young one, what will you-obedience or a broken head?"
Ivan was silent, then he spoke. "I won't fight," he said. "You are toobig, but I won't go in that door with you."
"So!" said the man. "Then we do it in this fashion." He made a rush atIvan and seizing him in his arms, held him until the other man liftedWarren and so, half carrying and half dragging Ivan, he followed throughthe dungeon-like doorway into the gloom and chill of the great roombeyond.
Boy Scouts in Front of Warsaw; Or, In the Wake of War Page 4
