The man was not shouting from the staircase: he was talking and laughing somewhere, quite close at hand. And then again I heard the thud of a door.
At once I saw what had happened.
When Auger had argued with Cain, he had suggested that Hans should be suffered to go and that, whilst he was out of the guardroom, he (Auger) should take Hans’ place.
Sure enough, almost at once, Hans and Auger and Boll emerged from the hall.
Now almost all I had witnessed since Mansel had disappeared, goes, I think, to show what very poor soldiers the enemy would have made. All the calling and bawling for Hans, the questions and answers shouted across the hall and now all this talking and laughing at the head of the steps – these things were so much folly, when one or two of us remained to be trapped. I can only suppose that they were intoxicated with their success – which was, indeed, handsome enough – and were now so sure of themselves that they felt they could afford to take risks. Auger should have known better; but he was the worst of them all. Some people will never learn.
Hans and Boll said nothing, but Auger went laughing and talking down the steps: and, when the two had left him, he did not turn back, but stood, with his hands in his pockets, looking the way they had gone and whistling under his breath.
He never heard me rise and step to his side…
It was no time for niceties – there was too much at stake.
With all my might, I hit him with the butt of my pistol behind the ear, and, as his knees sagged, I caught him and picked him up. I cannot think what he weighed, but I managed to get him out of the forecourt and round to the side of the house, and there I laid the man down to die when he pleased; for I knew how hard I had hit and that, though he might live for an hour, he never would move again.
So much I had done on impulse. But now I stood still for a moment, and thought very hard.
Twenty or twenty-five minutes would pass before Hans returned. Then Auger would be missed and the hunt would be up. Meanwhile the man called Kleiner was in the guardroom alone. The trouble was he had his eye to the peep-hole…
And then I saw what I must do.
Auger had been wearing a hat. When I struck him, this had fallen, but I had managed to catch it and carry it off with him. I sought for this and found it and put it on. And then I made my way back to the foot of the steps.
I had not all Auger’s inches, but I am not a small man and, as I have said before, the light at this end of the hall was very dim. So I put my hands in my pockets, assumed the German’s demeanour, and sauntered up the steps and into the hall…
Now the instant I entered the hall, I knew that the floor was not fixed. It was solid enough, but there was a ghost of a tremor, such as you may feel in a ballroom, the floor of which has been slung. Still, I knew it was safe to tread, for Hans and Auger and Boll had been by this way.
A glance at the staircase showed me that there was nobody there.
Still strolling and humming aloud, I turned to the left, but to my dismay I could see no sign of a door. Mansel was right – it was cut in the tapestry. I walked as slow as I dared and went so far as to dance a pace or two – all to gain time, of course, for my eyes were raking the wall for any sign of a cut.
And then something caught the light…
The door-handle was of cut glass, and, as I danced to the right, one of its facets had rendered a sullen gleam.
I was just about to grasp it, when Kleiner played into my hands.
No doubt, because of his position, Auger was feared. Five nights ago the sentry had called him ‘Sir.’ And so Kleiner thought it expedient to save the fellow trouble and open the door. And since it would close on its own, Kleiner held the door open, for me to pass in. Everything indeed was against him, for I was in the darkness, but he in the light.
I clenched my fist and hit him as hard as I could.
It was a clumsy blow, for I hit him full in the face, instead of under the jaw; but, as luck would have it, he was standing against the jamb – and that was of stone. So the back of his head met the stone, and once again I had a body to catch.
I laid him down in a corner, and glanced at my watch.
Twenty-two minutes to nine. And Hans and Boll would be back in a quarter of an hour. And Carson…
I gave myself ten minutes to see what I could.
The room was small, but high-pitched. I would have said that it was an ante-room. The window was shrouded with blankets. A slow fire burned in a grate, beside which were the watchman’s chairs. On a table in the corner was burning the signal lamp. On a hook on the wall an acetylene lamp was hanging, to light the room. There were three doors – one by which I had entered; another opposite that; and a third, which was slightly open, facing the window – that is to say, on my right, as I had come in.
This third door had been cut in the panelling, and when it was closed, you would not have known it was there. It was clear that this was the door by which Auger had entered the room when he had come down from the stairs, for the other door could not have been opened unless the signal-lamp’s table had first been moved.
I set the third door wide, to see where it led.
All was dark and I ventured to use my torch.
The doorway admitted to a passage, not six feet wide – a passage all of stone, running as straight as it could by the side of the hall. But the passage was lower than the hall by at least three feet, for, from where I stood, a short flight of steps ran down.
With another glance at my watch, I passed down the steps…
I had taken four or five paces, when on the right of the passage, I found a recess, such as you see in tunnels into which a man may retire upon the approach of a train. In this recess had been planted a massive crutch or cradle of solid iron. This was some two feet six or three feet high and was bearing the end of a giant, steel spindle, which was itself protruding out of a hole in the wall. Both spindle and cradle were fairly plastered with grease, some of which had been lately added, as a tin of grease, newly opened, most plainly showed.
For a moment I stared at these things, remembering the others’ disappearance and the tremor I had felt in the floor. And then in a flash I knew that I had the truth of the matter between my hands – that I had conducted myself behind the scenes and was at this moment regarding the cruel and treacherous device by which he who had built the lodge had been used to rid himself of his unsuspecting guests.
The floor of the hall was in fact a limited see-saw – that is to say, it pivoted on a spindle, just as a see-saw does – with this one difference, that the staircase end could fall, but could not rise, while the other end could rise – but could not fall.
It was, doubtless, perfectly balanced, so that the instant a man passed beyond the centre, and so found himself nearer to the staircase than he was to the door, his weight would tip the scale and would bring down his half of the floor, while the other half would rise up. Since the floor was so highly polished, the victim would have no chance: he was bound to fall or slide forward, thus actually sealing his doom, for the farther he went, the sharper, because of his weight, the tilt would become, until at last the floor from having been horizontal would become vertical and he would simply fall headlong into the depths below. And then, relieved of his weight, his end of the floor would rise up, while the other fell down, thus locking him into his prison, for what that was worth.
There could be no doubt about it.
This was the dreadful way which Mansel and George and Rowley and Bell had taken: it was the weight of their bodies which had lifted my end of the floor, thus hiding the hall from my eyes and revealing the awful depths of that noisome pit: here was the explanation of the tremor which I had felt when I entered the hall; and here the reason why Hans had kept his distance, when he had stood in the hall, conversing with Cain.
And then I remembered the ‘rumbling, slithering sound’…the sound I had heard when everything had gone black…
I knew now what had made that sound – and
the palms of my hands grew wet…
Then something occurred to me.
I had found that the floor was a trap and I knew how it worked. But a floor which was always a trap would be inconvenient indeed. And in this particular case it would be absurd to suppose that the hall could never be used except by those whom Varvic proposed to destroy. This being so, there must be a locking device, so that the hall could be used – by the sheep as well as the goats. And the locking device would be at the staircase end.
I hastened along the passage, still using my torch.
The passage ran into a chamber, some twelve feet square. On the left rose a flight of stone steps, and on the right I saw the locking device. This was most simple.
A steel beam or girder had been let into the wall, as a safe is let into a wall: but whereas a safe is fixed, the beam could be moved to and fro. It ran, of course, on a carriage which did not move; and a toothed wheel, controlled by a windlass, could force it to right or to left. At the moment it was clear of a hole in the massive wall on the right; but there could be no doubt that, if, by the use of the windlass, it was made to pass through this hole, it would jut out beyond the wall and under the floor of the hall – for it hung at the height of the spindle or thereabouts. The whole was smothered in grease, as the spindle and its cradle had been. There was just such a beam, no doubt, on the opposite side; and when the two were protruding, instead of withdrawn, the floor of the hall would be safe for fifty men: but, with only one beam engaged, the floor could not give way unless a tremendous weight were put upon it.
I was now abreast of the spot at which Mansel and George and the servants had been cast into the pit, so, for what it was worth, I put my arm through the hole through which the beam, when advanced, would have to pass, and flashed my torch three or four times, that if they were living and conscious they might believe that help, if not at hand, was going to come. I would have liked to call, but I dared not do that: but, when I had drawn back my arm, to my inexpressible joy, I saw through the hole in the wall a flash in return.
At once I plunged in my arm and flashed my torch again. Then I drew it back, again to receive a reply. And I was standing, thanking God and trying my best to remember two or three letters in Morse, when I heard a sound I had heard three times before. It was unmistakable. In fact, it was the thud of the ante-room door.
12: The Wages of Sin
So do plans go awry.
What had happened, I never knew – except that Hans had not gone so far as the mouth of the drive. Maybe he had met a sentry when he was halfway there. Be that as it may, he was back – and by now had seen Kleiner’s body, which I had meant to remove before his return. This was unfortunate, for it meant he would raise the alarm; but what was very much worse, my retreat was cut off. And Carson…
For an instant my brain zig-zagged. Then I saw all things clear.
I must be out of the passage before the alarm was raised. Otherwise Cain and Forecast would hold the head of the steps which rose from the left of the chamber in which I stood; and with Hans and Boll in the guardroom, I should be trapped.
But before I left I must lock the floor of the hall.
Thus, unknown to the enemy, I should have a line of retreat – a line of retreat of which they would never dream.
All this time I was watching the guardroom’s door. I had left this ajar, as I had found it, and so far it had not been moved. Hans and Boll were probably ministering to Kleiner…
I whipped to the windlass and hoped very hard indeed that no sound would give me away.
Thanks to the grease, the beam moved forward in silence, and though it went very slowly, a child could have done the work.
I dared not use my torch, but at last I could turn no more, and when I put up a hand, I found that the hole was gone, for the beam was filling it up.
At once I turned to the left, to make for the steps, and then I saw that the door of the guardroom was shut.
This made it clear that Hans was taking no risks: he had closed one end of the trap.
At once I lighted my torch and sprang for the steps…
These wound up in a spiral, and since the spiral was small, they were very steep: but I mounted as fast as I could, for if Forecast or Cain were before me, my cake was dough.
At the top was a heavy oak door, and my hand was upon the latch, when on the spiral below me I heard a man miss his step.
In that instant I realized that Hans was by no means a fool. I had thought he was out to trap me – as he had meant me to think. In fact, he was out to kill me; for, before he had shut the door, he had entered the trap.
But two could play that game…
Quick as a flash I opened the door before me. But I did not pass through. I slid my torch into my pocket and shut the door.
Believing that I had gone on, Hans was now less careful to make no sound. He trod the last steps squarely, feeling his way. And as he came to the top one, I flashed my torch on his face.
Surprised and blinded, he recoiled – instinctively. But a steep, stone, spiral staircase is not a good place to recoil, and, as luck would have it, his weight was upon the wrong foot. He tried to save himself by throwing his back to the spindle round which the staircase curled; but against the spindle, of course, the steps had tapered to nothing, and when he put out a foot, no foothold was there. Before I could strike, the fellow toppled sideways and backwards, his great hands clutching the air: and, as he fell, he gave a terrible cry, for I think he knew what it meant for a man of his weight to fall badly in such a place.
In fact, his body landed out of my view, but such was the sound it made when it struck the stone that I knew as well as had he that he would not move again. Hans, the burly foreman, had broken his neck.
At once I re-opened the door, to see on my right the archway which stood on the left of the staircase at the end of the hall.
And then I heard Forecast’s voice.
“I’ll lay it was another,” he said. “And that makes five or six.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Cain. “I don’t say the floor didn’t move, but we never heard it fall back.” He raised his voice. “Auger!”
There was a little silence. Then—
“Rot the fellow,” snarled Cain. “By God, I do hate that man.”
“Hans,” shouted Forecast. “Hans!”
There was no reply.
“Hans won’t be back,” said Cain. “It’s that — Auger we want.”
Again he shouted for Auger – of course, in vain.
Then I heard Forecast exclaim and once again the thud of the ante-room door.
“That’s Boll,” said Cain. “What’s that mean? Boll was to have gone with Hans to the mouth of the drive.” He raised his voice. “Where’s Auger?”
Boll, who could speak no English, was shouting excitedly.
“Damn the fool,” said Cain. He shouted again, “Where’s Auger?”
“He doesn’t know,” said Forecast. “That’s what he’s trying to say.”
“Where’s Hans?” cried Cain.
What gestures Boll made, I was unable to see, but I heard him imitate the death-cry which Hans had made.
“My God,” said Forecast, “they’ve got him.”
His voice was hoarse.
“I said so,” said Cain. “That yell we heard was Hans. You’d better get down to the guardroom and see what’s what.” He raised his voice. “Get back to the guardroom, Boll.”
Apparently Boll understood, for a moment later I heard the thud of the door.
“Go on,” said Cain to Forecast. “You heard what I said. Slip down to the guardroom and–”
“All right, all right,” said Forecast. “An’ not so much of the ‘slip.’ I’ve only one arm, you know; an’ if one of these Willies gets rough–”
“What then?” said I, stepping into and out of the archway, pistol in hand.
The two of them turned to run, and had I hit Cain, who was leading, I should have had them both: but I am not a
crack shot and Forecast was in my way: and so I fired and hit Forecast full in the back.
Forecast fell down on the stairs, but, before I could fire again, Cain had whipped back through his archway and out of sight.
In a flash I was down the stairs, across the landing and up the other side: but when I had reached the archway, Cain was gone. Immediately on my right was another oak door like that through which I had lately come, and I had no doubt at all that this gave to another stone staircase, and that, in turn, to a passage exactly like the one I had left.
Now it stood to reason that, if Cain had gone that way, he could probably gain the hall from an ante-room like that on the opposite side. In this way he could give me the slip, for while I was yet in the archway at the head of the stairs, he could whip out of the hall and into the night.
I therefore swung round, to go down and cut off his retreat – and that was very nearly the last thing I ever did.
Forecast had dragged himself up and had got his right arm over the balustrade. While he thus supported himself, his left hand had drawn a pistol out of his coat, and he was about to fire when a shot rang out from below, and the fellow collapsed and rolled over on to his back.
Carson.
It was a lovely shot, for he fired at eleven paces and shot the man clean through the brain. And had he not aimed so truly, I must have died; for I had no time to think and Forecast’s range was point-blank – I was less than four feet away.
And then I was down the staircase and in the hall and was haling Carson out and on to the steps. .
“I’m much obliged, Carson,” I said.
“That’s all right, sir,” said Carson. “I’m glad I was there. And Captain Mansel?”
“They’re all of them trapped,” I said. “They’re under this floor. I’ll give you the details later. But to get them out, we’ve got to work undisturbed. And that we cannot do until we have bumped off Cain. And now listen to me.”
As shortly as ever I could, I described to him the layout and showed how Cain could not escape, unless he went out by a window or some back door.
“If you ask me,” I said, “he’s in that ante-room now – the one opposite the guardroom – gluing his eyes to a peep-hole, and trying to screw up his courage to make a dash for this door.”
Eye For A Tooth Page 21
