Safe Custody and Laughing Bacchante

by Dornford Yates

  Much as, no doubt, he would have liked it, the man was too shrewd to risk his life for the pistol which Stiven held, though, if he could escape as he did, I believe he might have had it in Stiven’s teeth.

  The latter was standing by the prisoners, when some sound outside the barn had made him turn to the door. In a flash he had been sent sprawling, and Harris was past his body and had gained the meadow without. Twice Stiven had fired upon him, but each time had missed, and each of those misses was indeed as good as a mile, for before he could fire a third time, Harris had won the shelter of the trees for which he had made. Cursing himself for his folly in not with-holding his fire, Stiven had then given chase and had got as far as the wood, when, happening to glance behind him, to his horror he had seen Punter running the opposite way.

  This time he made no mistake, but had first overtaken Punter and then advised him to yield. This the latter had done without any fuss, but, while Stiven was clearly right to make sure of recapturing one, had he but followed Harris, the latter must have been taken where I had delayed his going by the side of the canalized rill.

  Stiven’s distress was piteous and when, as my cousin told me, he made his report, he put his head in his hands and cried like a child. For all that, I shall always maintain that the fault was not his, and I think it more than likely that if I had been guarding the prisoners, I should have lost them both.

  One fair turn Harris did us by making good his escape: and that was to give us the slumber we needed so much. My cousin very rightly decided that Punter was not worth watching, if Harris was free, so he and Stiven bundled him into the Rolls and set him down on a hilltop some twenty miles off. They then returned to the inn, where Palin was still asleep, and lay down to take their rest until six o’clock.

  It follows that when we had dined, we were all of us greatly refreshed and ready and able to cope with whatever the night might bring forth.

  That Harris would make for the castle we had no doubt, but he had not one penny upon him, and the distance he had to cover was thirty-one miles. Even if he knew where he was—and that seemed most unlikely—we judged that he could not get there before the following day. By midnight, however, we hoped to be in possession, whatever might be the reception with which we should meet: and once we were in possession, we should stand a very good chance of making him prisoner once more.

  Indeed, as we swept through the evening, over the roads which we were beginning to know, the blow which had seemed so heavy sank to ‘the luck of the battle’ in which we were all engaged, and even Stiven, sighing beside me, began to hold up his head.

  Olivia was sitting with Hubert and Palin behind, for she had flatly refused to stay at the inn. She had, however, promised that when we approached the castle, she would get out of the car and wait in the woods with Stiven until we came out to find her and bring her in.

  Upon one thing we were determined: and that was to enter with a flourish, as became the lords of the house. Twice we had come by stealth, and twice was enough. This time we would drive into the courtyard, with the headlights blazing and the great horn sounding a summons to all the staff. If Bugle or Bunch were yet there, such ostentation was likely to discomfit the rogues, while the servants were certain to be most deeply impressed.

  “The avenging angels,” said Palin, “complete with trump and a couple of pillars of fire: they’ll bring you the keys on a cushion, with halters about their necks.”

  I think we all hoped he was right; but, speaking for myself, I would have exchanged the rosiest expectations for a blunt assurance that the drawbridge would not be raised.

  But it was not. Hohenems Castle was in darkness, and the drawbridge was down.

  As we swept into the courtyard, I sounded the horn and the old walls seemed to tremble before its sound Had there been ghosts to rise, I think they must have risen at the deafening clamour I raised, for a score of echoes fought for the monstrous note.

  And that was all the answer we got.

  Not a door, not a window was opened: no light was shown: and, when the echoes had died, all we could hear was the steady lisp of the water which was falling without our gates.

  Chapter 6. An Odour of Sanctity

  It took us near half an hour to break into our home.

  The doors were too stout to be forced, except in the last resort, and the gallery’s windows were heavily shuttered with oak: but in the end we entered the servants’ quarters by way of a first-floor window which was not barred.

  That this part of the building was deserted, we saw at once. Room after room was empty and had been vacated in haste: beds had been left unmade, chests of drawers were open, foul water stood in basins, liveries lay upon the floors. Everything was denoting a headlong flight, which must have been taken that morning, for the kitchen fire was out and the grate, which was gigantic, was now stone cold.

  “Mea culpa” groaned Palin, and put his head in his hands. “That blasted letter’s done this. I pitched it too strong. I made John Ferrers unearthly. His abduction of Harris was startling, and I ought to have left it there. But I didn’t. I referred to a conversation of which he could not have known. That made him supernatural: and that is a thing that none of these fellows will stand for, faithful or no.”

  “They can’t be far,” said I. “We’ll try the nearest village to-morrow, and you shall have the pleasure of charming them back.”

  With that, I undid the back door, which was only latched, and we went out to find my cousin, who had stayed to watch the courtyard and was sitting on a step of the Rolls.

  When I had told him our news—

  “I’ll bet you a ducat,” said Hubert, “the steward comes up to-morrow to see what’s what. They obviously fled before our wire had arrived. And that was a pity, for the wire was a rational document, sent in a rational way. Still, as like as not, the steward received it in the village to which he has gone. And if he did, I’ll bet he’s here to-morrow at eight o’clock.”

  “Please God,” said Palin, piously. “We can’t live here without servants. If you don’t believe me, go and consider the grate in the kitchenette.”

  Then I went to fetch Olivia, for, though we had yet to search, the rest of the castle, there seemed to be now no reason for her waiting without the walls. Once she was in, we must manage to pull up the drawbridge before we did anything else, for, with that raised and the postern exits barred, none could get into the castle, while, if there was someone within, he could not get out.

  When I told Olivia my news, she began to laugh.

  “Andrew Palin,” she said, “is an artist. But now and again he slaps on his colours too thick. No sign of Bunch or Bugle?”

  “None at present,” said I. “But I want you to sit in the Rolls until we’ve made sure that they’re out.”

  To my relief she consented to do as I said: and, as soon as she had taken her seat, and Stiven had been posted in the archway, to watch the courtyard, we turned to the urgent business of raising the bridge.

  The doorway into the gatehouse had long been sealed, and we saw at once that, to gain the access we sought, we must pass through the castle itself.

  This we accordingly did.

  The kitchen led us into a hall from which a short flight of broad steps brought us up to the tall double doors beneath which we had thrust our letter the night before. The gallery being in darkness, we sought for and found the switches to give us light, and though I later came to know it as the palm of my hand, I shall always remember the first time I saw that apartment brilliantly lit. I have never seen luxury and state so vie with one another to distinguish any room, and, as I surveyed its proportions and the splendour of carved oak and stone with which these were arrayed, I could not but wonder what was its history and what, could they have spoken, those walls might tell.

  We hastened the length of the gallery, to enter an open hall from which a grand stone stairway led to the floor above. To our right stood the great front door. This was neither bolted nor chained—a curio
us omission which we made haste to repair. On either side of the stairway, heavily curtained archways argued an inner hall, and before us a squat, stone passage offered to lead us the way that we wished to go. After a dozen paces, the passage bent to the right, and a little later we came to a tower of the gatehouse, with a turret staircase running both up and down.

  “Down,” said Palin. “The gear’s out of sight, so the windlass must be below.”

  Here he was right, for ten or twelve steps brought us into the windlass room. Except that the ropes had been replaced by steel cables, I do not believe that the gear had ever been touched: yet no engineer could have improved upon it, and a child could have raised the drawbridge, so just were the stone counter-weights.

  Having closed the courtyard, we made at once for the postern, to see that that way was barred. As luck would have it we found we could lock up the room by which we had entered the castle the night before: still, this would not have stopped our entry, and we made up our minds to shutter the casement with oak the very next day. Then we glanced at the postern door—as a matter of form.

  We all three exclaimed together.

  Since we had last seen it, someone had sought to open the postern door.

  One of the bolts had been drawn and left as it was. Whoever had done this had sought to draw the other, but had not been able to do so, because it was stiff.

  “Now what does this mean?” said Hubert.

  Palin fingered his chin.

  “Bugle or Bunch,” he said, “looking for Harris and Punter and trying all the doors that were shut. Can’t you see Bunch sighing for a hammer that he’s too lazy to fetch?”

  This interpretation seemed good. Still the door could not speak for itself, and, for all we knew, someone who knew the castle might have sought to escape by this way as soon as they heard the flourish with which we had filled the courtyard. So Hubert went for a hammer, while I found a morsel of wood and fashioned two or three wedges which, once they were driven, would stop the bolts being drawn.

  We then returned to the other side of the castle and searched the three principal rooms: these all led out of the gallery, and their windows, which gave to the ramparts, were those which we had seen lighted the night before. The rooms, which were very handsome, were as empty as the gallery itself, and when we had ascertained that all three doors of the latter could be made fast, I went for Olivia and Stiven and bade them in.

  As I ushered the lady into the gallery—

  “Olivia,” said Palin, “you’re a beautiful prisoner at large. Put into prose, you can muck about on this floor as much as you like. We have to search this very desirable mansion, and before we set about it we’re going to lock you into this suite—partly because we don’t trust you, and partly because we don’t trust the terror by night. Stiven will light you a fire, and I think four spacious apartments should do you until we come back. Oh, and please don’t go out on the ramparts, because we can’t search them as long as it’s dark.”

  “I see,” said Olivia, slowly. She took her seat upon the arm of a chair. “Why don’t you take Stiven with you?”

  “To save us trouble,” said Palin. “If he came with us, we should visit you every five minutes to see you were safe.”

  Olivia took off her gloves and tossed them on to a table of black and gold. Then she pulled off her hat and pitched it after the. gloves.

  “I seem,” she said, “to be very inconvenient. And that’s a role it doesn’t amuse me to play. Locked in and watched—like Harris. I’m only surprised you don’t tie me up and gag me.”

  “We’ve no string,” said Palin. “Besides, your mouth’s too small. And you know as well as I do—”

  “I know I won’t be treated like this. I don’t expect you to ask me to go and look for Harris, or to do any dangerous work when there isn’t enough for four. But when there’s work for fifty, and that the sort of employment you’d give to a row of Boy Scouts . . .” She broke off and shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t know this castle, but Bunch and Bugle do. How, if they’re here, can three of you run them to earth? Why, you’ll lose yourselves as soon as you leave this floor.”

  “We’ve thought of that,” said Hubert. “We’re going to search it by sections and try and close each section as soon as it’s searched. It’s heart-breaking work, but it’s simply got to be done.”

  “I think you’re right,” said Olivia. “I don’t believe anyone’s here: but, if they are, they’ve got to be routed out before Harris returns. And I think your method is good—we must hope there are keys to the doors. But how do you close a staircase?”

  “We must try to watch it,” said Hubert.

  “Exactly,” said Olivia, rising. “There are twenty-seven staircases at Haydn, and, though you’d hardly believe it, you’ll find quite twenty here. Our fathers believed in stairs. The times were rough, and emergency exits—well, you couldn’t have too many if you wanted to see old age. And now I should lock up this section and start on the next. You can post me at the head of the stairs which run out of the hall. If you must, you can give me the pistol I carried this afternoon.”

  I touched her arm.

  “Will you promise to stay in the shadows?”

  “Yes,” she said, “I’ll do that.”

  Two minutes later the gallery’s doors were locked, Olivia was standing by a bookcase at the head of the principal stairs, and we were searching the bedrooms above the principal rooms.

  Three of these four fine chambers were in a horrid disorder such as we might have expected the rogues to leave, and a trunk of Hubert’s was missing, which went to suggest that Bugle and Bunch were gone. Here, for the first time, we were to learn for certain the strength of the gang, for four beds had been in service, though only three rooms had been used, two of the ruffians enjoying a double room.

  So much was straightforward, but when we left the main landing our troubles began. Doors were locked and archways were hung with curtains, stairs ran both up and down and lobbies led all ways at once: as for the passages, these might have belonged to some maze, and we were all astonished to find the castle so big. Though we did the best we could, it was plain that Olivia was right and that if there was anyone here that proposed to give us the slip, we should be lucky indeed if we ran him down.

  Our way was presently blocked by a door on a curling stair which promised to lead to the passage in which was the postern door. I, therefore, left the others, to try and make my way round to its opposite side, and was nearing the principal staircase when I almost ran into Olivia, finger to lip.

  “I was coming to find you,’’ she breathed. “There’s somebody here.”

  Flat on the carpet, I peered through the stone balustrade, listening to the sound of somebody creeping below me towards the hall. He was using the utmost caution, but he was treading stone and his leather soles betrayed him each step he took.

  Olivia was gone for the others, and I was alone.

  By my side lay my pistol, before me the pierced stone screen, and I could not help thinking that the sheep that is urged to the shambles stood as good a chance of escape as the man who was approaching the cockpit which I surveyed.

  Nearer and nearer he came, to pause directly below me, and so, just out of my sight. He was, I knew, parting the curtains which were masking one of the archways, to be sure that the hall was vacant before he went on. Then I heard the rustle of skirts, and Father Herman of Haydn whipped to the great front door.

  With one frantic glance about him, he fell to the nervous business of drawing the bolts, and I let him get as far as the chain before I spoke.

  “Can I help you?”

  The creature gave one start and then stood still as death, with his face to the door. And so he stayed, like some forbidding statue, until I had descended the stairs to stand by his side.

  Slowly he turned to regard me with a cold, imperious stare, and I saw at once that here was no ordinary man. By rights he should have been trembling: but he had himself in hand and was
more ready than I was to deal with what might befall.

  For a moment he stared upon me. Then he laid his hands on my shoulders, raised his eyes to heaven and thanked his God.

  I disengaged myself and ordered him back.

  Crossing his hands upon his breast, as though he were laid-out for burial, the fellow lowered his head.

  “I address Mr. Ferrers,” he said. “And I am Herman Haydn, your neighbour and friend. For an hour I have fled before you—in blindness of heart. When I heard you arrive, I supposed it was those black villains that have taken your name in vain.”

  “Oh, they’ve gone, have they?” said Hubert from the head of the stairs.

  “So I am informed,” said the priest, with a smile and a bow. “Disquieting rumours reached Haydn this afternoon. The Hohenems servants, I heard, were leaving en masse. I at once took car, to see if I could not stop them. These country people know me and often enough will listen to what I say. I need hardly say I believed you to be in possession, for rumour said you had cast the impostors out. I met the steward in the roadway—he was the last to leave: but, though I went so far as to threaten, he would not hear what I said. He declared that the place was accursed and that nothing would induce him to return. It was only when he showed me your wire that I learned that you were not here, that the castle was now desolate, with not one soul in charge. I redoubled my entreaties—commands, but the man would not budge.

  “ ‘Then give me the key,’ said I. ‘And I will do the duty of keeping my neighbour’s house.’

  “At grave inconvenience, therefore, I made myself your bailiff, bidding my chauffeur return to-morrow morning to take me away.”

  “Always thinking of others,” said Palin, stepping out of the shadows in which he had stood concealed.

  At his voice the priest started, and, as he looked at Palin, an expression of the utmost malevolence settled upon his face.