“And Boll, sir?”
“Boll must be dealt with, too; and then, except for the sentries, we’ve got the lot.”
“And the Duchess, sir?”
“God knows. When we’ve got the others out, we’ll set about looking for her. But Cain comes first. For one thing only, unless we can iron him out, he’ll go and get help.”
Now when I had last seen Cain, he was passing through an archway at the head of the stairs. To reach the forecourt from there, he had a choice of three ways – one by the hall, which I had now made safe, one by the right-hand passage and one by the left. Add to this that from either ante-room he could go out by a window and so avoid using the hall.
I decided that, one by one, we must close these ways of escape. I, therefore, arranged that Carson should stay on the steps, from which he could watch the windows on either side, whilst I approached the ante-room on the right. I supposed that this resembled the guardroom, that is to say, the ante-room on the left: if so, and if I could do it, I meant to bolt the oak door which led to the right-hand passage down which I had never gone.
Now though, in this way, we should presently run Cain to earth, the operation seemed likely to prove very slow, for we had to be careful of Boll and one of us must always stay at the door: and since, as I had told Carson, I firmly believed that Cain was now in the ante-room watching the hall, I determined to try and mislead him – to make him take what he thought was a way of escape.
Cain could have reached his peep-hole within a very few moments of Forecast’s death. And, if in fact he had done so, he was aware of two things – first, that Carson had joined me, and, secondly, that the floor of the hall was now locked. I therefore proposed that, just before I approached the ante-room on the right, Carson should approach the ante-room on the left. If Cain was watching, he would at once assume that we meant to clear the passages and meet at the head of the stairs; in which case, since the floor was locked, the hall would be at his disposal for him to make his escape. He would, of course, be wrong, for Carson would not enter the ante-room, but would return to the steps outside the front door. But Cain would not see this, for by then he would be in his passage, making his way to the stairs.
As we arranged, so we did: and the moment I entered my ante-room, I knew that I had been right; for the door which led to the passage was ajar and I heard the whisper of footfalls going away. At once I gave chase, but the man had reached the chamber before I was past the oak door, and the beam of my torch just caught him about to climb a staircase like that on which Hans had died. Be sure I ran like the wind, but, as I reached the foot of the spiral, I heard the door above close.
Playing the part of beater, I leapt at the stair, for I was now quite certain that our ruse was about to succeed and that Cain would dash through the hall and run into Carson’s arms.
In a flash I was up the spiral, and as I flung open the door, I heard the man scream…
Two steps, and I was in the archway – and looking down upon a spectacle which was over and done in less than a tenth of the time which it will take to describe.
In a word, Boll, whom I fear I despised, had sought to put a spoke in our wheel by unlocking the floor of the hall.
Now when Cain took to the floor, he was running towards the door, but Mansel and the others had been running towards the stairs. It follows that Cain was running towards safety, while Mansel and the others were running downhill to their doom. So they had no chance at all: but Cain had a chance.
The fellow was moving so fast, that, though the floor gave below him the moment he set foot upon it, his impetus carried him on until, though running uphill, he had almost reached the spot beneath which the spindle lay. Indeed, when he threw himself forward, I think his frantic arms fell over the halfway mark, for the floor seemed to hover for a moment before deciding to continue its sweep to the vertical. But all the weight of his body was on the wrong side, and so it held on its way and Cain, who was scrabbling like a madman to gain the point of safety he must have known was so near, gave a second, ghastly scream and then slid smoothly and swiftly into the depths below.
The depths looked less black than grey, and Cain seemed to disappear in a cloud of dust. This showed that there was no water, to my surprise and relief. But, perhaps because of the dust, I could see no one of the others, although, as the floor was closing, I roared “Hang on.”
And then, with a crash, the floor fell back into place – to show Carson framed in the doorway, down on his knees on the threshold, with a hand to his head.
I signed to him to stay where he was: then I made my way back by the way I had come.
Poor Carson looked very shaken, as well he might.
“Is that,” he faltered, “is that what happened to them, sir?”
“Yes,” said I. “And I was exactly where you were. Not very nice, is it? Never mind. When we’ve mopped up Boll, we’ll get them out.”
“My God, that stench, sir. I thought I was going to faint. And the Captain’s down in the thick of it…”
“That’s all right, Carson,” I said. “It’ll take more than a smell to get him down.”
Carson wrung the sweat from his face.
“We’ll need some rope, sir,” he said.
“We’ve got it,” said I. “There’s a coil in that ante-room. And now for Boll. He’s in the left-hand passage – possibly in the guardroom: the point is that, if we are quick, we’ve got him cold. I’m going back to the staircase. When you see me cross that landing, approach the guardroom door. I don’t know whether he’s armed, so watch your step. By the time you are in the guardroom, I shall be on the spiral staircase. And if he is not in the guardroom, he soon will be, for I shall drive him towards you. Don’t kill him, if you can help it. He may be useful before the night is out.”
The thing worked out very well; for when Boll saw Carson coming, he took to the passage at once. I heard him coming, of course, and as he entered the chamber, I lighted my torch. This showed me at the foot of the spiral, pistol in hand, and when I said, “Put up your hands,” he knew what I meant. So I marched him back down the passage, with his hands in the air; and Carson took his belt and Kleiner’s and bound him hand and foot.
“And now for the others,” said I.
While Carson ran for the rope, I shut the double front doors: and then, by way of a passage, we made our way to the staircase at the farther end of the hall. As we went by, I showed Carson the locking device.
When we had reached the landing, Carson fastened one end of the rope about my waist, and he took a turn round the newel at the foot of the stairs. He left me some three feet of slack and stood ready to take the strain. Then I took my seat on the bottom stair and put my feet on the floor. The instant I touched it, it gave – as was natural enough. I kicked it, and it swung open, but not very far.
“We must have a bedstead,” said I.“In one of the rooms on the right.”
While Carson ran for this, I held the floor down with my feet, and called Mansel’s name.
He replied directly.
“Good for you, William,” he said.
“Thank God,” said I. “Tell me, are you all right?”
“Except that Bell’s broken his wrist, we’re perfectly sound. But the atmosphere’s hitting us hard, so be as quick as you can.”
“And Cain?”
“He’s shamming dead. I’ve got his pistol all right. What of the others?”
“Boll is tied up,” I said, “and the others are dead.”
“Very good indeed. And the sentries?”
“Still keeping watch, I hope.”
Here Carson arrived, with a small iron bed on his shoulder.
“Stand clear, Mansel,” I cried. “We’ve got a bedstead here, and, when it’s served its turn, I shall let it go.”
There was a moment’s silence.
Then—
“Carry on,” said Mansel.
At once I leaned back till my head was touching the stairs. Carson set down the bed and
pushed it down over my body, until I was lying beneath. I then laid hold of the legs, and, together, we pushed it farther until I could once more sit up. The floor was now well open, for while one end of the bedstead was lying across my thighs, the other was touching the floor and, because, of course, it was rigid, was holding it down.
“D’you think you can hold it, sir?”
I shifted my grip to the rail.
“Now let me try.”
Carson released his hold.
“Yes, I can do it,” I said. “But shout when you’re through and be as quick as you can.”
Carson fled for the passage, to use the locking device. My muscles were trembling when at last I heard him shout.
“Stand clear below,” I cried – and let the bedstead go.
The floor swung back to admit it: then the floor lifted and checked. A gap remained – a gap some four feet wide, for because of the beam which Carson had just wound forward, the floor could not close.
The mouth of the pit was now open and the rope we had found was long and strong enough to carry the prisoners up: but the foul air had sapped their strength and Mansel at once announced that to climb the rope was wholly beyond their power. I had expected this, for, unless it is very thick, to climb thirty-five feet of rope is a feat for a strong, fit man: but, though Carson and I had the strength to pull them up, we were badly placed for such an exercise. And then I saw what we must do.
The staircase upon which we were standing ran up, as I have said, in one broad flight to the landing from which two flights went on. It follows that upon either side of the flight below the landing there were a few yards of floor which did not move: in other words, if I had stepped straight off the staircase, I should have stepped into the pit; but if I took hold of a newel and swung myself off the last step to left or to right, I should not step into the pit but on to a morsel of floor which was perfectly safe. And here were two doors – one upon either side.
I sent Carson off for a mattress and swung myself round a newel and on to a patch of firm floor. Then I threw open a door. I fancy this led to the kitchens, but that is beside the point. If Carson and I were to stand within this door, we could easily haul up the others, because, when we took the strain, we could brace ourselves against the jambs of the door.
And that was what we did.
The mattress we laid on the brink, that the rope should not fray. Then we let the rope down and I called to Mansel and told him that we were now all ready to pull them up.
At once I heard a flurry down in the pit: then the rope was jerked to and fro; and then I heard the howl of a man in pain.
“What’s the matter?” I cried.
“Nothing,” said Mansel. “Cain tried to rush the boats, and I’ve knocked him down. Bell’s coming up first, and Cain last – if he comes at all.”
One minute later he told us to take the strain…
Now that the pit was open, the awful stench was rising into the hall, and I felt that we must work quickly, lest we, too – Carson and I – should be overcome. Indeed, to this day I do not know how Mansel and the others were able to keep their senses, for they were within the pit for more than an hour.
I shall never forget Bell’s appearance, as he rose out of the depths. His face and head and shoulders were powdered most thick with dust – a very white dust that would not be shaken away. In fact, he looked like one that had been raised from the dead. And when we had pulled him right up, we found he was white like that from head to foot. So were they all. Indeed they looked like four spirits that had the shape and semblance of men we knew: they did not seem to be human or clad as men are clad, for the dust lay so thick on their clothes that all their detail was gone.
Mansel came last of the four, and before he was fairly up, Cain began shouting like a madman for us to let down the rope.
Be sure we let him shout, while Carson ran for some water that he had seen in the bedroom from which he had brought the bed. They dared not drink the water, but cleansed the dust from their faces as best they could: but whilst they were doing this, I found a glass and three siphons, and so, when I got back, they were able to rinse their mouths. And then Carson found a bottle of whiskey…
“Quick lime and bone dust,” said Mansel. “Or something equally foul.”
“Lime?” said I. “Lime? That’s what is in those sacks. There are six sacks in the ante-room on the right.”
“Waiting for us,” said Mansel. “The old order prevaileth: a sack of quick lime per man. Quick lime destroys, you know – eats up the flesh and the bones and brings them to dust. But it does not devour the gases – you can’t have it every way. And we have just had a close-up of the substance which is produced when quick lime has digested the dead.” Again he rinsed his mouth. “This place is a charnel-house. We fell on a kind of dune – a reeking mound of corruption, and that is what broke our fall. Of course, we didn’t fall straight; we slid for a lot of the way. But that stench was what did us in. I don’t think we could have lasted another half-hour. Our senses would have left us, and that would have been the end. It was because of that that I thought we were done. I knew that you and Carson would pull something out of the bag, but, in view of the odds against you, I could not believe that you could reach us in time.”
“But they did, God bless them,” said George. “You know, I always told you I didn’t like this place.” A howl from Cain interrupted him. “Damn the wallah,” he added, and pitched an empty siphon into the pit. “I felt that it had some drawback. But now that I know what it is, I am no longer afraid. All the same, the sooner we close that abyss, the more at ease I shall feel. Are you really going to draw up that murderous swine?”
“Well, I think we can use him,” said I, and told what was in my mind.
When I had done—
“It’s well worth trying,” said Mansel; “but I think you must carry it out. I shall be fit for nothing until I’ve had some fresh air.”
I leaned over the pit and called to Cain.
“Listen,” I said. “We are not going to spare your life. Would you rather stay down there or come up and be shot?”
“I’d rather come up,” yelled Cain.
Once more Carson and I laid hold of the rope…
When Cain’s head was just to be seen—
“Tell me,” I said, pausing, “in which room is the Duchess confined?”
“She isn’t here,” panted Cain. “She was taken straight to the castle. If you spare my life, I’ll–”
“Her coat’s hanging here,” I said.
“I know. It was brought here to – to mislead you: to make you think she was here. If you spare my life I’ll–”
“We are not going to spare your life. Nothing can alter that. Only the Duke will survive, of all your crowd.”
“But that’s not fair,” screamed Cain. “It’s damned unfair. Why should the Duke go free, while I go down?”
“Because we can’t get him,” said I.
“I’ll get him,” gasped Cain. And then, “My God, this rope. It’s cutting me almost in two. Don’t torture me. Pull me up.”
“Listen,” said I. “Get the Duke here, and you’ll die a good clean death. If you don’t, we’ll chuck you back.”
“I think, if I get the Duke here–”
I spoke to Carson.
“Lower away,” I said.
As Cain began to go down—
“No, no,” he screamed. “What you like. Don’t put me back in that pit.”
“Will you get the Duke here?”
“If you’ll promise to kill him, I will. But I think, in return, you should–”
“Have no hope,” I said. “Get the Duke here, and I’ll send him to hell with you. If not, you go alone: and your jumping-off place is that pit.”
We let him down another six feet.
“Stop!” screamed Cain. “I won’t have it. I mean, I’ll do as you say.”
“I’ll see to that,” said I, and we hauled him up.
Once
up, we bound his hands and made the blackguard fast to the balusters. Then Carson went off to the passage and drew back the beam: and, when the floor had settled, he wound it back. So the hall was safe. But, in case of accidents, he went to the other passage and shot the second beam. And then, at last, we were able to cross the hall, and Mansel and George and the servants were able to sit on the steps and to breathe fresh air. Not that the air by the lodge was truly fresh: but it seemed like attar of roses after the stench of corruption which laded the hall.
But Carson and I conducted Cain to a bedroom, found a pen and paper and bade him write.
“Use your own words,” said I. “But tell the Duke this – that we are all dead: that two were shot and four fell into the pit: that, before we died, we killed Auger and that, as a result of his death, you can give no orders, because the men who are left cannot understand what you say. Ask him therefore to send an interpreter, or, better still, come himself, for the sooner things are cleaned up, the better for all concerned.”
“And how will you send this letter?”
“That’s my affair,” said I. “And you’d better write a letter he won’t suspect: for if he doesn’t fetch up, I’ll shove you back in the pit.”
“He won’t come at once,” said Cain.
“I’ll give him till dawn,” said I.
Cain picked up the pen and wrote…
I left Carson with him and went back to Mansel and George. But they and Bell and Rowley were fast asleep. I was not surprised at this, for, crossing the floor, they had staggered like drunken men: and I think that the foetid air had acted upon their systems as some intoxicant and that the fresh, night air had, so to speak, knocked them out.
Almost more than anything else, this showed me what they had suffered down in that pit; for Mansel possessed an endurance which was not of this world, and to see him yield to Nature before some business was done was proof of the savagery of the ordeal through which he had passed. But, Cain, of course, had suffered for a very much shorter spell.
Eye For A Tooth Page 22
