‘From Switzerland,’ I replied. ‘I am making a walking tour.’
‘Your passport, please,’ said one, and put out his hand.
‘I’m afraid I’ve lost it,’ said I. ‘I am going to the consul at Vigil as soon as I can.’
‘Without a passport we cannot allow you to pass.’ He turned to his fellow. ‘It cannot be one of them. He is going the opposite way.’
The other shrugged his shoulders.
‘He answers the description,’ he said. ‘You say you are walking. Where did you sleep last night?’
He could not have asked a worse question. I had no idea of the country which, had I come from the west, I must have passed through.
‘I slept at a farm,’ I said. ‘I do not know the name of the place.’
‘What was the last town you passed?’
Frantically I cudgelled my brains. I had read some names on the map, but, because they did not concern us, they had not stayed in my mind.
‘I cannot remember.’
There was a moment’s silence. Then—
‘He must come to the station,’ said the one that had spoken last.
‘Yes,’ said the other softly, with the queerest look in his eyes, which were fast on my coat.
The next instant he fell upon me, shouting some words of patois which I could not understand.
To struggle was hopeless, and so I stood perfectly still. Then a hand went into my pocket and brought my pistol out.
4: The Common Enemy
Now as is sometimes the way, the blow having fallen, I instantly felt more at ease and was able to think more clearly and measure what chances I had.
The discovery of my pistol plainly convinced my captors that I was one of the culprits whose arrest was so earnestly desired, for they could not hide their excitement and they held on to each of my arms as though I had mastered the trick of slipping out of my skin. I, therefore, took care to continue to stand very still, and, after arranging with the sentries to bear their fellow a hand, they turned me about, and we started towards the old town.
I cannot blame them for fearing that I should try to escape, for I fully intended to do so before they could lodge me in jail. Unless I was much mistaken, the streets would be poorly lit, and while I am as strong as most men, George and Rowley would certainly shadow my progress and the instant I made my effort would come to my aid.
For the moment I could do nothing because of the throng, but I said in my heart that, once we had passed off the bridge, the crowd would quickly diminish and leave me a clear enough field.
Here I was sorely mistaken.
I can only suppose that the vigilance shown by the police for the last three days had aroused such an interest as Sallust had seldom known and that, now that an arrest had been made, everyone that was not abed came running to see the victim and prove the achievement true. What was far worse, they were not content to stand and watch me go by, but must move the way I was going and so form a curious escort through which no prisoner could break.
Indeed, I soon saw that it was hopeless, for George and Rowley could never have won to my side, and when, by the light of some lamp, I caught site of the former’s face, I made haste to shake my head as though to forbid an endeavour which could not succeed.
We passed up a long, steep alley and turned to the left, the crowd all the time increasing and seeming to bear us along, and plainly proposing to see me into the jail. No Barabbas was more duly attended, and, though I was shown no ill will, the progress had the air of a triumph, as many marching in front as were marching behind.
Again we turned, to enter a very old street, where the houses seemed to be topless and the yellow-burning lamps to shed more shadows than light. For a crime or a rescue it was a likely place, and I could have stamped to behold the very venue I had wished for, yet now could not use. Then a large, hollow, metal body fell suddenly out of the air and into the press of people directly ahead.
I cannot describe the confusion the incident caused.
The street being dark, no one had seen the ponderous missile in flight, but the noise which it made on the cobbles and the yells of pain and dismay from such as had embarrassed its fall declared some misadventure of an unusual sort. Eager to sift the mystery, those behind pressed forward and those in front turned back, while those that were hurt and their neighbours fought and clamoured to leave the danger point.
It follows that my captors and I were very soon jammed in the press, for although they demanded way, they might as well have addressed the waves of the sea.
Now had they contrived to emerge, my rescue would have been done, for, except for George and Rowley, they would clearly have had all the rest of the street to themselves: but though they tried, they could not, and when I tried, they withstood me, because, I suppose, they thought I was trying to escape.
So we heaved and swayed and shouted, while two good minutes went by. Then I saw the flash of a torch approaching the scene and three more police came bustling to seal my doom.
They had come, of course, to see what the outcry might be, but as soon as they learned what manner of prisoner I was, they made a way for their fellows and the five of them carried me off.
The station stood in a square a little way off, and before five more minutes had passed, I was haled up a flight of broad steps and into a low-pitched hall, where two or three police were standing about a small fire of logs. From there I was led to a room in which an inspector sat, and to him the police that had seized me told their tale. Then I was questioned, but stuck to what I had said, and after two jailers had searched me they thrust me into a cell.
I was presently given some supper of which I was very glad, for though we had eaten at Bariche, that meal had been hasty and broken and our drive through the cool, night air had served to sharpen a hunger that had been but half appeased; and when my supper was done I made bold to smoke, for, though they had turned out my pockets, the jailers had taken nothing but only the map.
I cannot think why I assumed that I should be kept at Sallust until the next day, but I was about to make the best of my pallet, when I heard the sound of an engine whose throttle is thrown wide open and suddenly closed. I listened carefully. Then came steps in the hall, and some door was opened and shut.
I could tell from the engine’s note that the car was not that of Grieg, but I guessed it had come from Vigil and had brought two or more detectives to carry me back.
I sat down on my stool and waited, but not for long.
Almost at once the jailers came to fetch me, and thirty seconds later I was back in the inspector’s room.
The scene stands out of my memory, clean and sharp.
As I had expected, there stood two plain-clothes men, one of whom I judged a sergeant, both of whom looked civil, but very grave. A little apart stood the police that had made my arrest. Two more uniformed police were standing against the wall, and behind a rude, deal table the inspector sat back in his chair. One of the whitewashed walls was bright with steel: handcuffs and chains and even a pair of fetters hung from their several nails. Over all one unshaded lamp was throwing a brilliant light.
At a gesture from the inspector the jailers turned on their heels and left the room.
There was a moment’s silence: some excitement that I could not interpret was in the air: the local police were gazing at the detectives, and the latter were speaking together below their breath.
The inspector leaned suddenly forward.
‘We are right?’ he said. ‘It – it is he?’
The detective-sergeant nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is he.’
An audible sigh of relief ran round the room, and the stir that always follows the lifting of some suspense made itself heard.
A moment later the inspector was repeating the report which my captors had made.
Before he had got very far, the detective-sergeant frowned.
‘“Coming into the country”?’ he said. ‘You mean “going out”.
’
At once the police that had found me insisted that I had come in, to the plain contempt of the detectives, who flatly refused to allow that I had not been in the act of leaving the land. Such confident disbelief was most provoking, and I was not surprised when my captors began to bridle and give back scorn for scorn. An argument so conducted could have but one end, and before a minute was out the four had lost their tempers and were doing their utmost to shout each other down.
Now whilst they disputed, I thought – and that very hard.
Our suspicion of Grieg’s misconduct was fully confirmed. No one but he and his chauffeurs had any idea that we had been driven to Bariche six hours before. From Prince to constable, the executive of the country had been betrayed.
It occurred to me that I held one very good card, and since I had had my fill of losing chances, I decided to wait no longer, but play it forthwith.
A lull in the altercation gave me the opening I wished.
‘Gentlemen,’ said I, looking round, ‘I have a statement to make. I think it will be of interest to everyone here. But before I do so, be good enough to give me a chair. I am something tired of standing, and I think I have a right to sit down.’
There was an electric silence.
From behind his table the sturdy inspector stared.
‘What right?’ he said, frowning.
‘This,’ said I. ‘I am Richard Chandos, husband of the Grand Duchess Leonie.’
The inspector laughed.
‘Aha,’ said he. ‘I have been waiting for that. We were told you would probably dare to take that name.’
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘So I was christened,’ I said. ‘But we will not argue the point. His Royal Highness may well deny me. If the Baron Sully were here–’
The man started out of his seat, and his four subordinates gazed at me open-mouthed. Only the two detectives showed no surprise.
At length—
‘Is this true?’ said the inspector weakly.
‘Yes,’ said the senior detective. ‘It is perfectly true.’
The inspector took a deep breath.
‘I should have been told,’ he said shakily.
‘How could I know?’ He turned on the gaping constables. ‘Fetch his lordship a chair, you fools. You heard what he said.’
A chair was hurriedly brought, and I sat myself down.
‘And now,’ said I, ‘for my statement. The officers that took me are perfectly right. I was not leaving the country. I had that instant come in. I had come by car from Bariche as fast as I could.’
‘From Bariche?’ cried a detective.
‘From Bariche,’ said I.
‘But, sir, you were two miles from Vigil at half past five.’
‘So Reubens told you,’ said I. ‘Well, Reubens told you the truth. I was within his horse-lines at half past five. And at half past six I was at Bariche, at the sign of The Broken Egg. I crossed the border at Elsa, and I travelled in Major Grieg’s car.’ There was a gasp of amazement, and I heard the detective-sergeant smother an oath. ‘He put me out of the country to serve some end of his own; but I don’t much like his assistance, and so I came back.’
With that, I described Grieg’s chauffeurs and the inside of his car; and I bade them ring up Elsa and ask if this had not passed twice between six and seven o’clock.
They heard me out in a silence big with wrath, and seemed to be very willing to believe what I said.
When I had done—
‘Tell me one thing, sir,’ said one of the plain-clothes police. ‘Between Vigil and Elsa are they anywhere mending the road?’
‘Yes,’ said I. ‘Some two miles this side of Elsa we passed a roller at work.’
‘That’s right,’ said his fellow. ‘They started this afternoon.’
‘I can beat that,’ said I, and showed them the bill for the food we had had at The Broken Egg. This was dated and bore the name of the house.
In silence the paper was passed from hand to hand.
‘So you see,’ said I. ‘I shouldn’t report to Grieg. I mean, he’s let you down once.’
A sound like a snarl of approval came from the uniformed police, but trouble looked out of the two detectives’ eyes.
‘It is done, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘He must have learned that you were taken almost as soon as we.’
‘Where is he?’
‘At the seat of the Baron Sabre, who is away just now, whose cousin he is.’
‘Baron Sabre.’ His was the spreading estate upon which we had lost our bearings four days before. If she was not at Vigil, the Countess…
I wrenched my thoughts away and fingered my chin.
‘Grieg’s appointment is very recent. To whom would you have answered a fortnight ago?’
‘To the Chief of Police, sir. But this is a special job.’
‘I can well believe that,’ said I. ‘Never mind. The point is this. I’ve shown you that Grieg is a blackguard and–’
‘You have that, my lord,’ mouthed the inspector. ‘A price of five hundred pounds had been set on your lordship’s head.’
With his words, the scales fell from my eyes. By making my disclosure, I had done better than I knew. Grieg might be a traitor, but he was also a thief. By putting me out of the country, he had wilfully taken the bread out of his subordinates’ mouths. That I had restored it so handsomely was beside the point. Every man in that room was thirsting to bring Grieg down.
I pressed my advantage home.
‘And on those of my friends?’
‘Two hundred and fifty, my lord.’
‘Well, that’s gone,’ said I. ‘They went with me to Bariche and you’ll never see them again.’ The inspector choked. ‘And now, as I was saying, the point is this. The moment Grieg learns that I’m here, his one idea and object will be to – to shut my mouth. He will, therefore, come here to get me and take me away alone. Well, I don’t mind standing my trial, but I’ve no desire to be murdered – you know what he is.’
There was a pregnant silence.
At last a detective spoke.
‘Will you write out a statement, sir, of all you have said?’
‘With pleasure,’ said I, rising.
‘That we can take, with the bill from The Broken Egg, and show to the Chief of Police. And on those he will surely act.’
‘Too late,’ said I.
‘If you write it at once, sir, we will return to Vigil and go to his private house. Then he will give us an order which Major Grieg dare not defy.’
‘And if he comes while you are gone?’
‘He will not, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘He will not come before day.’
I took my seat at the table and started to write.
My statement must have read very ill, for I am no German scholar, and though I can speak well enough that unattractive tongue, I could not write down correctly one half of the words I use. Besides, I wasted no time, for I knew I had spoken the truth and that Grieg, full ripe for murder, was on his way.
One lie only I told, and that was that George had set me down at Sallust and then gone with Bell to Littai, to comfort my wife.
Then I subscribed my name, and pinned to the sheet the bill of The Broken Egg.
As I got to my feet—
‘I think,’ I said grimly, ‘I think that should fix Major Grieg.’
‘Sir,’ said the sergeant, ‘you have just signed his death warrant.’
With his words came the squeal of brakes, and then the heavy slam of the door of a car.
In a flash I had slipped the statement under a blotting-pad.
‘What did I tell you?’ I said.
As I spoke, I saw my pistol, lying there on the table six inches away.
‘By your leave,’ said I, and whipped it into my pocket before they could think. That no one presently protested argues, I think, that they liked me better than Grieg.
Then I stood back from the table and turned to the door.
The n
ext instant this was opened, and Grieg flounced into the room.
Swiftly he looked about him.
‘What does this mean?’ he rasped. ‘Why isn’t this man in a cell?’
‘I’ve been making a statement,’ said I. ‘I was just going to write it down.’
Grieg’s eyes narrowed.
‘You can write it at Vigil,’ he said.
‘Don’t you want to hear it?’ said I. ‘It’s a very extraordinary tale.’
I heard the man suck in his breath.
‘If you think it worth repeating, you can tell it to me as we go.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘I see,’ said I. ‘Where are we going this time?’
I thought the fellow would strike me, for he started forward and thrust his face up to mine.
‘“This time”?’ he snarled. ‘“This time”? What — lie is this?’
I gave him back look for look.
‘I dined at Bariche,’ I said. ‘And I’ve got the receipted bill. And it’s dated, Grieg…dated.’
Twice he essayed to answer, and twice he failed.
At last—
‘You – you rave,’ he said thickly. He turned to the table and struck the wood with his hand. ‘Make out a receipt for this prisoner. He goes with me.’
‘Alone?’ said I.
‘Alone.’
I addressed the boggling inspector.
‘You will please record my protest. For reasons which I have given, I prefer not to travel alone with Major Grieg.’
The latter stamped his foot.
‘Make out the receipt,’ he roared.
With a shaking hand, the inspector picked up a volume and sought for a pen…
Grieg addressed the detectives.
‘Handcuff this man and take him out to my car.’
In a deadly silence the sergeant pointed to the gyves, and one of the uniformed police took a pair from the wall.
As the detectives approached, I put my wrists together and held them out…
When the handcuffs were on, they laid their hands on my shoulders and turned to the door.
A moment later we were crossing the hall.
‘I am very sorry, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘But what can we do?’
‘You can post to Vigil,’ said I, ‘and show the Chief my statement as soon as ever you can.’
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