Fire Below

by Yates, Dornford

  In vain I looked round for some lodgement, where he could stand at our mercy, yet out of sight.

  As I turned to call Bell from his perch, I thought of the tree…

  I know his Royal Highness demurred, but, if I ever listened, I cannot recall what he said. We were pressed for time and I fear we were none too gentle, but once George and I had hoisted him up the trunk, he saw the wisdom of taking Bell’s outstretched hand.

  An instant later he was lodged in a mighty fork, some twelve feet above the ground, and though with a little discretion he could have scrambled down, I think that he had no stomach for that sort of exercise, for he never moved a muscle, but clung to a branch with his face clapped against the bark, as though in peril of being washed off by some wave, declaring that he was slipping and that we should have his blood upon our heads.

  As Bell slithered down to the ground—

  ‘I advise you,’ said George, looking up, ‘to make no noise.’

  With his words, the two servants appeared and, Carol directing them, came clattering down the steps and running across the lawn.

  ‘Their coats and hats,’ I breathed. ‘We must take his car.’

  ‘Good,’ said George. ‘You and Bell get out of sight and leave it to me.’

  When the men were close to the bushes, he cried out, ‘This way,’ and once they were under cover, he stepped from behind a tree-trunk and held them up.

  Their surprise was ludicrous, and they looked from the pistol to each other as though they were dreaming some dream.

  ‘Put up your hands,’ said George.

  They did so dazedly.

  ‘Now whether I hurt you,’ said George, ‘will depend upon you. But I want your coats. Bell, take them off. And their hats.’

  To strip them took but an instant.

  ‘Now their boots,’ said George. ‘Cut the laces. They mustn’t be able to run.’

  In less than two minutes Bell had their boots in his hands.

  ‘And now turn round,’ said George, ‘and stand with your face to the wall. March.’

  As the men obeyed, I saw a slight figure appear at the head of the steps.

  ‘And now don’t move,’ said George. ‘I’m going to stand here and watch you, and fire at the first that moves. I mean that, mark you. I’m not going to speak again.’

  By now Bell and I were wearing their hats and coats, and I took the dog by the collar and gave the sign to withdraw.

  We did so in silence, only pausing to hide the boots in a clump of stocks, and when we were all in the salon, I closed and bolted the shutters and shut the windows behind.

  ‘Where’s the telephone?’ said George. ‘We must cut the wire.’

  ‘In the hall,’ said the Countess, and ran before…

  As Bell took her dressing-case–

  ‘I don’t like to leave Carol,’ she said. ‘You see, he’s involved.’

  ‘Right,’ said I. ‘Let him put on my hat and coat. And follow in ten seconds, please. I’m going to start the car.’

  One minute later the Countess and George and Carol were sitting back in the car we had used that morning, Bell and the dog were beside me, and I was driving all out for the Austrian road.

  Our going was none too private. I saw no man that I could have sworn was a spy, yet half a dozen that might have been watching the house, but we met with no sort of obstruction, and if we aroused suspicion, I never saw it declared. I would never have believed it so simple to steal a royal car, but I think that those that were there had not noticed the Arms on the doors and, our livery being plain blue, were not expecting the presence which we had so hurriedly left. When we came to the busier streets, our fortune took on another still more convenient shape, for such police as saw the car coming made haste to clear the way, and the zeal they showed was so active and the compliments they paid were so grand that I could have burst with laughter, while Bell, whose reserve was prodigious, was shaking with mirth.

  When we were clear of the city, George leaned out of a window and spoke in my ear.

  ‘Are you going for Elsa?’

  ‘No,’ said I. ‘I dare not. I believe we’ve an excellent chance, but supposing we fail…’

  ‘Right,’ said George. ‘Where then?’

  ‘I’m damned if I know,’ said I. ‘How long before it’s dark?’

  ‘Nearly three hours,’ said George. ‘It’s not yet a quarter past six.’

  ‘Get the map off Carol,’ said I. ‘It’s in my coat. We must dodge across country to Vardar and find some place to lie up.’

  I was eager to leave the main road and knew we should find a by-road some five miles on that would take us over the railway and into the hills. I, therefore, wasted no time, and the car being very willing and, in view of its heavy body, unusually swift, we had climbed a steep hill and were approaching the by-road before ten minutes were past.

  Now, though I slowed up for the turning, I was not expecting traffic upon such a road, and, anxious not to lose time, I certainly cut my corner more fine than I should. And this was very nearly the end of us all, for there was another car coming and taking, as luck would have it, more than its share of the way.

  Thanks to our excellent brakes, a smash was avoided with two or three inches to spare, and, from having come to a standstill, the cars were slowly beginning to draw abreast, when a man leaned out of a window to shake his fist in my face.

  I shall never forget that moment or the bitterness which it held, for when a poor wretch ‘hath nothing’, it is very hard to surrender ‘even that which he hath’. In that instant our half hour’s start, so hardly won, sank to a few poor moments and what disguise we had was changed to a startling announcement of what we had done.

  The man at the window and I had met before.

  That scowl, that square jaw, those small eyes – I had reason to remember those features to the day of my death. For they were Grieg’s features – the features of the man who had tried his best to kill me and now had ‘some job in the police.’

  His scowl slid into a stare, and I heard him cry out. And that was all, for I was gone as fast as my gears would let me and had pushed the car up to sixty before thirty seconds had passed.

  I spoke to Bell.

  ‘Can you see him?’

  ‘Oh no, sir. The last I saw he was turning. We must have a good minute’s start.’

  ‘A good minute…’

  ‘Tell Mr Hanbury to guide me. He’s got the map.’

  As I spoke, George put out his head.

  ‘Take the first to your right,’ he said. ‘And then the first to your left. And keep your foot right down. We’re leaving a trail of dust about three miles long, and unless we can leave him standing it’s simply a paper-chase.’

  Now, dust or no, I was very certain that we had the faster car. Provided, therefore, that we met with no serious check, I judged we should shake off pursuit in nine or ten miles. If then we could only vanish within reach of the bridle-path, we still had a chance of escaping that very night.

  I was less afraid of a check than of losing our way, for we were now over the railway and at this time of year the flocks were upon the hills; but the country was unfamiliar and very blind, and the roads seemed devoid of signposts of any sort. Though the map was true, George was now forced to read it at lightning speed, and to decide in an instant which was the way we sought, and though he was careful never to hold me up, but to give me directions as coolly as though we were riding to hounds, I knew as well as he did that, except he knew the country, no man born of woman could guide a car going so fast.

  We flicked through a nameless village and over a hunchback bridge; we were checked by a yoke of oxen passing from gate to gate, each second seeming a minute until the road was clear; for a mile and a half we flung up a twisting lane, so girt and narrow that had we met but a hand-cart we could not have passed; we dropped down into a valley, sped by green water-meadows and switched to the right; we sang up a serpentine hill and into a range of beechwoods that
ran for a lady’s mile; and we swung to the left at crossroads where – hardship of hardships – a signpost had been blown down.

  Of such was that nightmare drive, and when, after thirty minutes, we came to a sudden thicket with a track leading into its heart, I was as ready as George was to, so to speak, go to ground.

  Indeed, before he had spoken, I had set my foot on the brake, for if we had come as we wished, we could not be far from the frontier and we might go another ten miles before we found shelter like this.

  One minute later we were deep in the wood.

  At once I stopped the engine, and all of us sat very still, but all the sounds we could hear were those of the countryside, the twitter of the birds about us and the splash of a neighbouring rill and somewhere, a long way off the lowing of cows.

  ‘Blind leading the blind,’ said George, quietly. ‘We’ve beaten Grieg, but I’ve no idea where we are.’

  The daylight we had so much deplored was now the best friend we had, for unless we had found our bearings before night fell, we could not hope to be out of the country by dawn.

  We, therefore, sent back Bell to destroy any traces there might be of our entrance into the wood, while the rest of us left the car to follow the track afoot. This soon gave into a meadow which sloped to an idle stream, but on every side rose woodland and we might have stood in some courtyard, for all the way we could see.

  We saw no sign of habitation or even of husbandry, and, as soon as Bell had come up, we made our way through the meadow and over the stream. This was happily shallow, and George carried Marya over without a word.

  Strangely enough it was our crossing of this water that first brought home to me the truth that we were fugitives, and I still remember the shock of that apprehension and the curious, hunted feeling that gripped my heart.

  By our treatment of the sovereign we stood guilty of a high misdemeanour, and while two hours ago only some trumped up charge could have been made against us – if, indeed, we were to have been dealt with by any competent court – we had now unmasked against us the heaviest artillery of the law of the land, and if we were taken, nothing on earth could save us from some most miserable fate. The thought that the Countess would share our punishment was insupportable; for though we were all guiltless, and though to this day I cannot see what choice we had but to hold up his Royal Highness and take his car, Marya Dresden had shrunk from such a trespass and had only abetted our action against her will.

  For an instant, looking upon her slight figure, I felt the cold breath of panic.

  For her sake only we must make good our escape. Failure was not to be thought of. By some means, before dawn came, we must stand upon Austrian soil.

  It was now past seven o’clock, and the sun was low.

  It was therefore arranged that the Countess, with Bell and Carol, should stay in a little dell which ran down to the stream, while George and I set out to find some landmark which we could recognize. Failing this, we must question some peasant, to learn our way, but we hoped to be able to find it without such help, for fear of leaving traces which Grieg who would soon be behind us would be glad to pick up.

  We did not like splitting our party, yet felt it most important that the Countess should save her strength; besides, we had not yet determined to abandon the car, for if we should find that we were miles out of our reckoning, we might have no choice but again to take to the roads.

  As fast as we could, we climbed to the top of the woods, to discover our view obstructed on every side; and when we had plunged to a valley and had struggled, panting, to the crest of another ridge, there was nothing but woodland before us which two miles ahead swelled into a range of hills. There were mountain and glade and forest and the flash of a stream, but never a road or so much as a curl of smoke, or even cattle straying to argue a neighbouring farm.

  ‘No good,’ said George shortly. ‘If we go any further we’ll probably lose ourselves. Besides, time’s getting on. We must go back and try the track.’

  By the time we were back in the dell, it was nearly eight o’clock, and the sun was down.

  Now, the track running roughly east – that is, away from Vigil and towards the frontier we sought – it seemed best that all should take it, for, come what might, we should not be going directly out of our way, and since we had lost near an hour, we dared not make use of the car for which every village by now would be on the lookout.

  So Bell and I put off our borrowed plumes, and the former gave Carol his overalls to cover his butler’s dress.

  A moment later our anxious march had begun.

  Here, I should say that, while George and I had been gone, the dog had strayed into the shadows and had not come back. This was as well. We had only taken him with us to save the poor brute from the vengeance his raging master would have been certain to take, and since there was no name upon his collar, we hoped he would soon be attached to some happier home.

  Half an hour went by before we sighted a farm, and the rest of us lay in the bracken, while George went on with Carol to learn the truth. When they came back, George had the map in his hand, but we could not see to read it, and Bell had to bring out his torch.

  The farm was the home-farm of some Baron Sabre’s estate, upon which, of course, we had been wandering ever since we left the car. As near as we could make it, the bridle-path we were seeking lay twelve miles off. And that was as the crow flies.

  There was a dreadful silence.

  Then—

  ‘What’s twelve miles?’ said Marya. ‘Come on. We’re wasting time.’

  I will not set out our progress, for though I shall never forget it, fleeing on foot by night is a business which anyone can picture, and one mile differs but little from that which has gone before; but we very soon decided that we must take to the roads, for, after a spell across country, the Countess for all her spirit began to flag. Besides, it was easier so to keep our way. After eight dragging miles we fell in with a country cart of which the driver was, happily, drunk as a lord. We, therefore, bundled him into the back of his gig, and Carol drove the Countess, while George and Bell and I took it in turns to ride and to shamble behind.

  On the farther side of Vardar we left the cart, and, taking the road we had trodden the morning before, hastened along in silence towards our goal.

  The time was now two o’clock, and the bridle-path was less than a mile away. I will swear we had been seen by no man, and though two cars had passed us, they had both gone by at high speed and had not seemed to be searching the countryside. If Marya could but continue, our race was as good as won.

  From the mouth of the bridle-path to the waterfall was by no means difficult going, but very steep, and I judged that this lap would take us an hour and a half. That meant that day would have broken before we had reached the Rolls, but, once we were over the border, we did not care, for time would be of no moment, and if it seemed best to lie in the woods till dusk – well, what was a few hours’ hunger to a few years’ lying in jail?

  Indeed, we were all exultant, for the strain of finding our way was overpast, and the knowledge that the two hours of darkness that still remained were more than enough to see us out of the country made us a cordial which was rarer than any wine.

  Speaking for myself, my weariness seemed to have left me, and the spring came back into my steps and as I turned to look back at the light of the level-crossing on which we had gazed near twenty-four hours before, I saw the humour of our venture and found it rather amusing to have ‘singed the King of Spain’s beard.’

  Then Bell, who was leading, came back to say that ahead were lights which were not those of a dwelling, yet did not move.

  The slightest reconnaissance was sufficient to teach us the truth.

  The lights were those of two tenders, belonging to Riechtenburg troops. They were standing not twenty feet from the mouth of the bridle-path. This was picketed. I could see the movement of soldiers about a fire. And when I crept closer, I heard a sergeant reporting how
he had placed his men.

  ‘In addition to that, sir,’ he concluded, ‘there are the visiting patrols. I will take my oath that no one can pass our line.’

  ‘Very good,’ said his officer. ‘And, damn it, mighty quick work. How long is it since we got here?’

  ‘Just twenty-five minutes, sir,’ was the proud reply.

  3: In Hiding

  Regret was vain. But if it was vain, it was bitter as the salt of the sea.

  Our mistakes stood out as glaring as shadows thrown upon a screen, and, prime among them, our folly of leaving the car.

  That error was, of course, prodigious, and how we came to make it I do not know; but I think that to Grieg must go the credit of making us lose our race.

  Our meeting with the man so shook us as to magnify out of reason the risk we ran of pursuit; and so we swerved from our objective, and, turning from the vital business of gaining the bridle-path, made sure of the trifling matter of covering up our tracks.

  Be that as it may, we were beaten, and, though for one frantic moment I was for making an attempt to pass the sentries, the Countess’ exhausted condition forbade so forlorn a hope.

  Now if we were not to be taken as soon as day broke, we must instantly seek some shelter and indeed be gone into hiding within two hours, for, if troops had been sent to guard the frontier against us, it went without saying that the country would be scoured to find us and that the drive would begin the moment the daylight came. We, therefore, tried to consider which way we had better go, to find ourselves in a very sea of troubles, with nothing to show us which way we had better turn.

  Between where we stood and Vardar the country was very open and dotted with farms, and the nearest shelter we knew was the wood in which we had rested by the side of the railway line. And that lay some six miles off – a distance which, without Madame Dresden, I doubt if we could have covered before it was light. Yet, had we been able to make it, what sort of bulwark was a wood when the country was up against us and troops were out? Then, again, we had none of us eaten for nearly twelve hours and, if we avoided capture by lying hid, where was our food to come from, and how could we live? Finally, though it was summer, the nights were fresh, and Madame Dresden, already in need of succour, could never stand an exposure such as not even the peasants were called upon to endure.