Fire Below

by Yates, Dornford

  He folded the paper and stuffed it into his coat. Then he sat back in his chair and fell to biting his nails.

  The elder judge lifted his head.

  ‘Do you wish to question his Royal Highness?’

  My spirits rose. I had never expected such licence.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, and rose to my feet.

  The two clerks picked up their pens.

  I folded my arms and looked the Prince in the face.

  ‘Can you describe my pistol?’

  The red-rimmed, watery eyes raked me from head to knee. Then their owner shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘It was like any other pistol,’ he said.

  ‘Which was it – nickelled or blued?’

  The Prince hesitated. Then—

  ‘It was nickelled,’ he said.

  I could have thrown up my hat. I had scarcely dared hope he would make such a childish mistake.

  I addressed the Court.

  ‘I call for that pistol,’ I said.

  The younger of the judges leaned forward.

  ‘What pistol?’ he said, smiling.

  ‘The pistol which I handed to the police.’

  ‘But what will that prove?’ he purred.

  ‘You will see that it is blued.’

  ‘No doubt,’ said the other, ‘no doubt. But the pistol of which we are speaking is the one which you pointed at the Prince.’

  My spirits sank lower than before. That I was no match for these men was perfectly clear.

  ‘I never had but one,’ I said wearily.

  With a gesture of infinite regret, the fellow leaned back in his seat. To this day I can see his raised hand and his pitying smile. The mockery stung me, and I felt as never before that I had my back to the wall.

  ‘Have you any other questions?’ he said.

  I reflected dismally. Then—

  ‘Was the Countess Dresden present?’ I said.

  The Prince’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Yes,’ he said roughly. ‘She was.’

  ‘Do you think her account of what happened would tally with yours?’

  His Royal Highness reddened.

  ‘D’you suggest I’m lying?’ he blurted.

  As his lawyers turned to soothe him—

  ‘From beginning to end,’ I said coolly. ‘You know it as well as I. Everyone present knows it – because they know you. And now kindly answer my question. Do you think Madame Dresden’s account–’

  I left the sentence there, because for the moment I had not the ear of the Court. The lawyers’ hands were full. Beneath their lively entreaties the Prince was chafing and cursing and raving of ‘exposure to insult’ and ‘royal blood’.

  As the storm was subsiding, the younger of the judges looked round.

  ‘Do you call the Countess?’ – sharply.

  ‘No,’ said I.

  ‘Then what she would say has nothing to do with the case.’

  I swallowed desperately. No doubt the fellow was right.

  I returned to the Prince, whose face was working with rage.

  ‘You say you knocked Hanbury down?’

  ‘So I — well did,’ cried the Prince, ‘you insolent swine.’

  ‘Was he the only one you knocked down?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why did you tell Weber that you had “laid two of them out”? Yesterday morning…when you were at Baron Sabre’s…waiting for Grieg?’

  His Royal Highness started forward.

  ‘Where were you?’ he said.

  ‘Close enough to hear every word – every single word.’

  Before the man could reply, the elder of the judges was making some fresh remonstrance with all his might. I think he was imploring his monarch to play the part of a witness and ask no questions himself. That the latter heard him with a scowl was, I am sure, because he had nothing to say.

  A knock fell upon the door by which the two jailers stood.

  Immediately one of them opened, to parley with someone without.

  ‘What is it?’ barked the judge who was not engaged with the Prince.

  The jailer turned a scared face. Then he drew the curtains and let an inspector come in.

  ‘What does this mean?’

  The inspector stepped to the screen and opened his mouth.

  ‘Speak up. I cannot hear,’ said the elder judge.

  ‘A Coroner’s Officer, sir, is standing below. He has a witness-summons made out in the prisoner’s name.’

  With a gesture of the utmost impatience, the other sat back in his chair.

  ‘Tell him to leave it,’ he flamed.

  The inspector quailed.

  ‘He – he demands to serve it personally, sir.’

  ‘“Demands?”’ cried the other. ‘“Demands?” and how does he know that the prisoner is here? Send the man packing. Good God, must you come to us in a matter like this?’

  ‘The superintendent is out, sir; and the Deputy-Chief is away.’

  ‘Have you no discretion – no power? An inspector of police that cannot deal with a peasant is best returned to the ranks.’ He smote upon the board with his fist. ‘Begone. Deal with the clown as you should. And if you cannot, call one of your men and ask him to teach you the way.’

  The inspector withdrew, trembling.

  As the door closed behind him–

  ‘Who’s dead?’ said the Prince, frowning.

  Now had his advisers been as wise men of action as they were wise men of law, they would have cleared the court and sent me away. But I think they thought the damage was done. Be that as it may, they instantly turned to the Prince, and the younger judge rose and passed to his other side.

  I did not hear what was said, for their voices were low, but first one spoke and then the other, and I have no doubt that their talk was of what had happened at Vardar the night before. The detective-sergeant, of course, had reported what had occurred, but it had been intended, I fancy, to keep the facts from the Prince.

  I watched the three closely…

  ‘A demonstration?’ said the Prince suddenly. ‘What do you mean?’

  The younger judge spoke very fast, but the Prince cut him short:

  ‘He said “demonstration”,’ he cried, with a smack of his hand. ‘A demonstration means treason. It’s a devilish curious thing that it should happen last night – just when she’d entered the country… Damn it, you’re my advisers. Don’t you–’

  Another knock fell upon the door.

  All eyes turned to the curtains, save only mine.

  The lawyers were plainly uneasy. The elder’s fingers were busy; the younger was standing up with a hand to his mouth. But for the look of the thing, I think they would even now have had me removed. Between them the Prince sat glowering.

  A sturdy superintendent entered the room.

  ‘What now?’ rasped the elder judge.

  ‘Sir,’ said the superintendent, ‘the matter is grave. I have but just come in. This Coroner’s Officer from Vardar is not alone. He has brought six witnesses.’

  ‘Witnesses?’

  ‘Witnesses, sir – to see how he is received. They are, all six, men of Vardar. And the man himself is wearing the mourning sash. This makes him conspicuous. There is a crowd of three hundred, and I have closed the gates.’

  Before the judge could answer, his master had snatched the reins.

  ‘Disperse them,’ cried the Prince. ‘If you don’t know how to do it, send for the troops.’

  The superintendent braced himself.

  ‘They are orderly enough, your Royal Highness. But it – it is the impression conveyed. The obstruction of a Coroner’s Officer is a most serious thing.’

  ‘Who’s obstructing the fool?’ cried the Prince. ‘Let him leave his — summons and go to his swine.’

  ‘He has the right, your Royal Highness, to serve it himself.’

  In evident agitation the elder judge half rose and lifted a hand.

  ‘It is out of order,’ he began…

&n
bsp; ‘Silence!’ roared his master, and stamped his foot. The old man fell back, shaking. ‘What fool said the prisoner was here? Tell him he’s wrong. Say you’ve looked at the roll and there’s no such name.’

  ‘It is useless, your Royal Highness. Himself he saw the arrest.’ The man hesitated. ‘He – he has a second summons.’

  The Prince stared, and the younger judge bent to his ear.

  ‘Will you shut up?’ blared the Prince. He returned to the superintendent. ‘A second summons? Who for?’

  ‘For her Highness, the Grand Duchess Leonie.’

  There was an electric silence.

  Then the Prince leaped to his feet.

  This is treason,’ he mouthed. ‘I said so. I said so a moment ago. Witness-summons be damned. They want to get her to–’

  ‘By your leave, sir.’ The younger judge’s voice cut through the sentence as a knife. As the Prince turned to rend him, ‘The Grand Duchess is at Littai,’ he added. ‘At least, she left Vigil for Littai some hours ago.’

  The superintendent replied.

  ‘I have insisted, sir, that her Highness is not here. I think if he were permitted to serve the prisoner, the man would go.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Then—

  ‘The Court will adjourn,’ said the elder judge. ‘Take the prisoner away.’

  With his words, the jailers closed about me and carried me off.

  I went, if not triumphant, yet full of hope.

  The Coroner and his peasants were hearts of oak. And despite his advisers’ efforts, the Prince had played into my hands. I had no doubt whatever that, had he allowed them to speak, they would have ordered my removal before I had heard what I had. But now it was too late. The younger judge’s desperate interruption had been made because of those present who did not know the truth. Leonie was in Vigil and under arrest.

  I waited the service of my summons with a hammering heart.

  After a quarter of an hour I was brought to some waiting-room.

  There stood a bent, old peasant, clad in his fine, white linen, with a broad sash of black and silver from shoulder to waist.

  ‘Are you Richard Chandos, my lord?’

  ‘I am, my friend.’

  ‘Then I am to summon you to the Coroner’s Court at Vardar tomorrow at three o’clock.’ He touched my shoulder with the paper he held in his hand. Then he gave it to me with a bow. ‘There, my lord. You are served.’

  ‘And her Highness?’ said I.

  ‘My lord, I cannot find her. She is not in the Lessing Strasse, and I am assured that she left the country at noon.’

  ‘It is untrue,’ said I. ‘She is here.’

  ‘Come,’ said the superintendent. ‘You gave me your word that when you had served the prisoner you would go your way.’

  ‘Ay, so I did,’ said the peasant. ‘God save you, my lord.’

  With that, he was gone.

  A moment later they led me back to my cell.

  My elation was gone, and I was disquieted.

  It now seemed certain that I was to go to Vardar, and there in open court to be given every chance of telling my tale. What this blunt recital would cost Prince Paul could not be measured. I was ‘out for blood’; it would not be my fault if it did not cost him his throne. I was determined to omit nothing. His colloquy with Grieg in the greenwood should be rendered, word for word. But, though I should ruin her cousin, this would not help my wife.

  To serve his summons upon me, the Coroner’s Officer had been ready to wait all night. No lies could disconcert him – because he knew I was there. But Leonie’s case was different. No one at Vardar had seen her, and the man had nothing to go on but my bare word.

  And when the police confirmed this and then went further than I, his importunity had faltered, and he had gone empty away. When I went to Vardar without her, yet swore she was in the country, the peasants would disbelieve me – against their will.

  I might swear that she was in Riechtenburg, but when they asked me to prove it, where was my proof? I had not so much as seen her; I had only heard say she had come in. And the police confirmed this hearsay. ‘He is right’, they said. ‘Quite right. Her Highness did enter the country, and now she has gone.’ My case would have been far stronger if they had denied that Leonie had ever come in. I might then have aroused suspicion – instead of pity for a man that is beating the air.

  ‘I am assured that she left the country at noon.’

  I could not prove that she had not. And Littai lay distant one hundred and ninety miles.

  Far into the night I sat thinking – flogging my brain for some way out of the pass. But I could discover no means to help my darling, and at last I took to my pallet and fell asleep.

  The dawn was up when I was awakened by the approaching footfalls of men in haste.

  As I got to my feet, the door of my cell was opened; then the jailer stood back, and a fine, familiar figure passed into the small stone room.

  ‘Sully!’

  The Lord President of the Council took my hand.

  ‘To Bell,’ he said, ‘the glory. Her Highness sent him for me. He has driven nine hundred miles in thirty-six hours.’

  Here I should say that this was less than the truth. In fact, Bell had driven nine hundred and sixty miles in thirty-five hours and a half. In his journey to Vichy and back, he had crossed four frontiers, and his actual time upon the road was twenty-six hours. Considering that when he started he was by no means fresh, that never before had he travelled over the roads he used and that he could speak no tongue but his own, I think the feat was notable.

  ‘Sully,’ I cried, ‘they have her.’

  ‘Come,’ said he. ‘We will talk in the Commissioner’s room.’

  I followed him out, and two minutes later we were alone in an office, half full of a gigantic table and laid with as thick a carpet as ever I trod. As we took our seats–

  ‘Where are we?’ I said. ‘In the jail?’

  ‘No,’ said Sully. ‘We are in the chief police-office, and this is Weber’s room. But Weber is sick.’

  ‘He looked all right two days ago.’

  ‘Yes, I don’t think it’s serious,’ said Sully. ‘But Weber is not very strong. I hope very much to be able to make him well.’ He set his cigarette-case beside me and felt for a match. ‘And now let me hear what has happened. Bell left you at Sallust, making your way to the bridge.’

  I told my tale faithfully, omitting nothing at all.

  The Lord President heard me out, with his elbow on the arm of his chair and his fine chin cupped in his palm. As was his way, he never interrupted me once.

  As I finished, some clock struck the hour. Seven o’clock.

  Sully rose to his feet.

  ‘I will telegraph to Littai,’ he said. ‘I do not think her Highness is here. I have not yet seen the Prince, but those I have seen–’

  ‘I know she is here, Sully. For one thing only, she would never have gone until she had seen my face.’

  His brows drew into a frown.

  ‘I will see the Prince,’ he said. ‘I have requested an audience at eight o’clock. And now about this inquest. They’re bound to let you attend it. What are you going to say?’

  ‘It’ll take less time,’ I said, ‘to tell you what I’m going to leave out. I’m not going to say that Marya was married to Grieg.’

  Sully’s chin went down.

  ‘Is that all…you’re not going to say?’

  ‘All,’ said I, and lighted a cigarette. ‘My statement will be a long one, but I don’t think they’ll find it dull.’

  Sully lifted his head.

  ‘It will never be made,’ he said. ‘You have the whip-hand, Chandos. The Prince will sign your pardon before midday.’

  I laid down my cigarette and rose to my feet.

  ‘My pardon won’t shut my mouth, Sully.’

  The Lord President met my gaze. Then he put his hands to his face.

  ‘God forgive me,’ he said, ‘but I cann
ot blame you. Tell me your terms, and I will lay them before him at eight o’clock.’

  ‘I will tell you my terms,’ I said, ‘when I have seen Leonie.’

  I was not returned to my cell, but was led to a decent room overlooking the prison yard.

  To this some servant of Sully’s was admitted within the hour. He had with him brushes and razors, as well as clean linen and towels and plenty of cigarettes, and he told me that Bell was asleep in the bed from which he had risen to let the Lord President in and that, when he had left the house, the man that washed Sully’s car was washing the Rolls. When I had made my toilet, he served me a very good breakfast which he had arranged for some pastry-cook to provide, and when I had done, he brought me the morning paper and asked at what hour I would lunch. I told him at one o’clock. Then he wished me good morning and went his way.

  Of the news which the paper gave, the inquest to be held at Vardar was given the largest print and the highest place. No names were mentioned, no doubt by order of the police, but I was referred to as ‘a very high personage, for some extraordinary reason now lying under arrest.’ Of the obstruction of the Coroner’s Officer no mention was made, but the presence of the crowd was referred to, as indicating the interest which had been aroused, and indeed the whole passage might have been designed to make the most jaded of readers hungry for news.

  Of Leonie nothing was said but the following words.

  The grand Duchess Leonie entered the country by Elsa on Tuesday night. Her Highness is understood to have left again this morning. The object of her visit is not known. We see too little of the lady who, if not Princess of Riechtenburg, will always be the queen of our hearts.

  This paragraph was printed immediately below that which dealt with the inquest which the Coroner of Vardar was to hold.

  As the clocks were striking eleven, the door was opened, and Sully came into the room.

  ‘She is not here, Chandos,’ he said.

  ‘Yes she is, Sully,’ said I.

  ‘My dear boy,’ he began…