It occurred to me suddenly that, in the rush to be gone, all manner of liquor must have been left undrunk.
I groped for the door of a box, opened it and went in gingerly, feeling my way.
At once I touched the table and then, to my delight, a bottle heavy with wine.
George was close behind me, leaning on the jamb of the doorway with a hand to his head.
“Here’s luck,” said I quietly.
Then I put the bottle to his lips and helped him to drink.
“That’s better,” he said at last. “I’ll be all right in a minute. Curse this heat.”
I took the bottle from him to set it down, but I could not find the table and put out my other hand to act as a sounding-rod.
Almost at once it brushed something soft and, warm to the touch.
It was a girl’s cheek.
I recoiled naturally. Then a dreadful suspicion leaped into my mind.
Desperately I strove to disprove it – only to prove it true.
The girl’s head was down on the table, and she was sleeping like the dead.
The wine was our own wine, and the box was the one we had sat in ten minutes before.
5: The Vials of Wrath
If time had seemed precious but a moment ago, I had now set up the sand-glass in very truth.
George Hanbury’s minutes were numbered. In a quarter of an hour, at most, he would be down and out, and how long he would be senseless heaven alone could tell.
When I told him what I had done, I heard him start. Then he threw back his head and began to laugh.
“You must admit it’s funny,” he said. “The vicious circle’s nothing. We’ve looped the immoral loop. That’s not so bad for a drug-fiend. I wonder how long I shall last.”
But I could not laugh with him, and I think he only jested for my sake to keep up my heart.
How we had missed the stairs I could not conceive. They could not be hard of access, for everyone else on our level had been gone out of earshot before we were out of our box. Yet we had passed no staircase, nor so much as a gap in the wall.
Suddenly I saw that the stairs must lead out of a dummy box and that we must have gone clean past them, expecting and trying to find them upon the opposite side…
At once we decided to make a great effort to gain them before the drug took effect. This, of course, by entering every box until we came to the dummy that hid the head of the stairs.
I was now armed in some sort, for I had never put down the mischievous bottle of wine, and, though I longed for a pistol, I felt sorry for whoever might oppose me until the bottle was broke.
We entered the passage again, using what caution we could and listening carefully, for the hubbub below us was fainter and an echo answered such cries as still arose.
We had entered, I think, three boxes without result and were in the act of emerging to try the fourth when the flash of a light behind us betrayed a torch.
At once we shrank back, and when I had put the door to, I watched the light approaching by means of the crack I had left.
Its approach was slow and fitful. Now the beam was thrown forward to flood the passage with light, and now it was plainly directed into a box, for, when the passage was dark, I could see the play of its radiance upon the fronts of the boxes on the other side of the floor. Whoever was using the torch was making a thorough search.
Very soon I heard the footfalls of more than one man, and George, who was now armed as I was, touched my arm.
“Let them come in,” he whispered, “and meet it on the back of the head.”
I nodded my assent.
Three boxes away, however, the search came to an end.
“By —, they’ve gone!” screeched Grieg. “This is their — box. Go and fetch one of those swine from the head of the stairs.”
Somebody blundered off the way they had come, and Grieg stood still waiting, with his torch pointing down at the ground.
So far as I could judge, the stairs were some ten boxes distant, for, after perhaps half a minute, I saw a fresh light approaching and heard the steps of two men.
Grieg hailed the newcomer fiercely.
“You’ve let them go by, you —. They’re not up here.”
“They must be,” declared the other.
“I tell you they’re not,” raved Grieg. “I’ve been into every box.”
His words amazed me, for I could have sworn them untrue. Yet why should Grieg be lying? Why…
Then in a flash I perceived the peculiar truth.
Our ‘vicious circle’ had saved us as nothing else could have done. Grieg must have entered our box very soon after we had left it by climbing into the next and, finding us gone, immediately followed behind us, searching the boxes as he went. And now he had gone full circle, as we had done, and, because he had not found us, believed us escaped.
“Every — box,” Grieg repeated, stamping his foot.
I could hear the man protesting that we had not gone by the stairs.
“Then where are they gone?” barked Grieg. “Answer me that.”
“They have not gone by,” said the other, “since the lights were put out. With my torch I saw every being that used the stairs.”
“I saw them myself in this box the instant before.”
“Then are they here, Major.” Instinctively he lowered his voice. “Perhaps—”
“I tell you I’ve been the round, and they’re not on this floor. Is there any way out but the staircase?”
“There’s a trap in the roof,” said the other. “But how could they ever find that in darkness like this? I could not find it myself. It leads out of one of the boxes, but I cannot say which.”
“Seventeen,” murmured his companion.
“Is it shut?” said Grieg.
“It is always shut,” said the other – a statement I fully believed.
There was a moment’s silence.
Then—
“Very good,” said Grieg, grimly. “It comes down to this. If they didn’t go by you, the swine must be here.”
“I have said so, Major.”
“Not so fast,” said Grieg. “It follows that, if they’re not here, they must have gone through your hands.” He paused significantly. “Now we’re going to look once more – you and I together, my friend. I’ll go round this way and you can go that, and if we don’t find them between us – I go to Weber tomorrow at ten o’clock. But for me, he’d have closed this hell-hole two years ago.”
With that, he bade the third man repair to the head of the stairs, and the fellow was off like a rabbit, as though he were glad to be gone.
The next moment the search had begun.
Here let me say that, though all these things have taken some time to tell, not more than five minutes had passed since Hanbury had drunk the drugged wine, and, as the two girls had survived for some fifteen minutes, I began to have hope that we might yet win safety before he collapsed. But George had, of course, drunk deep and had taken his portion at a draught.
Now, which way Grieg was going I could not tell, but I prayed that he was coming our, way; for he was sure to be armed, and if I could knock him senseless, his pistol, I was ready to wager, would bring us clear of the place.
With this heathenish prayer on my lips, I drew back into a corner beside the door, while George took his stand on the opposite side of the box.
From where I now stood, I could no longer see the light of our enemy’s torch, and, what was disconcerting, I could not hear him approaching or any sound that he made.
Feverishly I strained my ears.
If they had changed their plan, and he was not coming, our course must be altered, too. If—
There, I think, my heart stood still. The fellow was at the next box – I could hear the movement of his clothing as he lifted an arm.
If he gave that sign of his presence he gave no more, and though the moments slid by he never moved. He seemed to have made up his mind to stay still where he was.
It occurred to me that he had heard us – was listening again, to make sure, before he gave the alarm. This was now possible, for the floor of the house was empty, and in place of the recent uproar, a horrid, deadly silence possessed the place. In the distance a glass shivered, and I guessed that his fellow was to blame. What remained of the drugged wine had already soaked my shirt-sleeve, and all my forearm was wet.
All these things I digested, but the man never moved. He might have known that time was his ally and that the longer he waited the nearer George came to collapse.
The box smelled very stale. Perfume, tobacco and liquor had done their work, and the sordid plush and hangings told an offensive tale. Yet people had sat there that night and would sit there the next and the next – unless Weber…
The man was moving.
As he entered the box I hit him full on the temple – an ugly blow. The bottle shivered, and the fellow reeled against George, who held him up.
I caught his torch as he dropped it, and together we laid him down.
I turned the beam on to his face. This was streaming with blood, but I knew it for the face of the man who had greeted us on our arrival and brought us upstairs…
I flashed the torch round the box for Grieg to see, and listened with all my might.
No sound came to my ears. The noise of the bottle breaking had meant nothing to Grieg.
“George,” I whispered, “are you fit?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “A – a little drowsy, you know.”
“We’ll do it yet,” said I. “Box Seventeen.”
I felt the man’s pockets for a pistol, but he had no weapon upon him nor had one fallen from his hand.
The next box was numbered ‘Twelve.’
Hoping very much that Grieg was not so sure of his bearings as to find suspicious the sudden advance of our torch, we hastened along the passage to ‘Box Seventeen’. A glance at the filthy roof showed us the trap.
At the same instant, in the box directly opposed, we saw the flash of Grieg’s torch. Any moment its beam might betray us, but in view of George’s condition I dared not wait.
In an instant I had set the table beneath the trap, and, while George held the sorry block steady, I mounted and put up my hands.
I was able to touch the trap – with two inches to spare.
Now the trap was neither hinged nor fastened, but only sunk into place, and I had it free in a moment and ready to come away: but I dared not cast it outward for fear of the clatter it might make, so I disengaged it carefully and lifted it clear and down.
“Here, George,” I whispered, and gave it into his hands.
He received it, certainly, but the wood was heavy, and I had asked too much of my failing friend.
Somehow he let it go, and it fell with a hollow clatter that could have been heard in the street.
“Oh, my God,” he said faintly: and Grieg called out sharply and I saw the eye of his torch.
I was down on the floor with an arm about Hanbury’s shoulders, holding him up.
“One more effort,” I breathed. “On to the table, George, and I’ll put you up.”
I felt him brace himself. Then he mounted the table and put up his arms.
“Ready?” said I, taking hold, and felt him nod.
I thrust with all my might, and I am a powerful man.
He was up, out – waist-high out of the trap, when his body suddenly sagged.
The last effort had been too much, or – irony of ironies – the fresh air had abetted the drug.
“George!” I shouted. “George!”
I might have called upon the dead.
He hung there, between earth and heaven, with his arms spread without the building and me below, like Atlas, holding him up.
And after a little, finding his weight too heavy, I let him slide back slowly into my arms.
Then I laid him down on the floor, took off my overcoat and waited for Grieg.
I had now no weapon, for George had lost his bottle and there was none in the box: but my nerves were much more steady than they had been when I was waiting to fell Grieg’s man. This may seem curious, for our plight was now more desperate than it had been before, but I have once or twice been at variance and have found the entrance to a quarrel more trying than the quarrel itself.
Had I had time I would have carried George Hanbury into another box, for Grieg must have seen our endeavour to escape, by the roof and, if he remembered the number, would make straight for ‘Box Seventeen’: but I dared not be caught in the passage with George in my arms and, as I dismissed the notion, I heard the murmur of voices five or six paces away.
Grieg was bringing the men from the head of the stairs.
I cannot think why I had failed to foresee so obvious a move. But at least I could read its lesson – that three men armed to one whose hands are empty are odds which no one can face.
In a flash I was out of the box and was wrenching at the handle of its door – the handle without, which a man must use to come in. Happily the metal was base, for almost at once it snapped. I whipped back into the box and slammed the door.
As I did so, three men came running…
I heard Grieg feel for the handle and let out a frightful curse. A moment later he flung his weight upon the door.
For this at least I was ready, for my back was braced against the opposite side, and so far from budging the woodwork, I think he but bruised himself, for he did not repeat his assault.
It now seemed clear that they would attempt to enter from one of the boxes which stood upon either side, but I did not envy them the venture and I do not think they liked it themselves, for they whispered a lot together before I saw the glow of a torch emerging from the box on the right.
I had turned to counter this manoeuvre in some confidence and was flat against the side of the box, awaiting the arm or the leg which must be thrown round the partition and over the balustrade when a deafening roar on my left told me that Grieg had fired directly into the lock of the door.
This, however, did not fly open, and the fellow flung himself against it with a passionate oath.
A kick would have done the business.
Beneath his weight, the door gave way, as though it had never been latched: not meeting the resistance he looked for, Grieg crashed into the box and, fouling the table, fell headlong on to the floor.
I was upon him in an instant, and, remembering that he was left-handed, had caught his left wrist, whilst with my other hand I took the man by the throat.
For a second, perhaps, he lay still. Then he struck me a blow on the temple that I can feel to this day. I thought my neck was broken, but, though I felt sick and dazed, I had the sense to hold on and to raise my elbow to parry his second blow. I felt his fingers seeking my throat, but I had the reach, and though his nails scratched me he could not take hold. Then he heaved like a horse that is down, and before I knew what was happening, the fellow was up on his knees, and so was I.
He had, of course, hoisted himself by the balustrade, but I think that movement will show the strength he had, for he had to lift both of us up, and I am a heavy man.
Again he sought my throat, but I shook him off. And that I think was a feint, for an instant later he gave another heave and brought us up to our feet. As we came up he turned and, before I could get my balance, I was back to the balustrade.
I now saw that he meant, if he could, to break my back, and that each of his three great efforts had been made to that end. Them I had not foreseen: but now, by the grace of God, I foresaw the fourth.
As he flung himself forward, I managed to writhe to one side, so that we both fell sideways on to the balustrade, and though he strove like a madman to roll me round, I was ready for this endeavour and brought it to nought.
By this time my strength was failing, and if one of the others had come to Grieg’s assistance I must at once have succumbed: but Grieg could not call upon them because I was gripping his throat, and though, no doubt, they wo
uld have obeyed his orders, I fancy they were glad of an excuse for standing away from a pistol which might any moment go off. Yet, even without their aid, their leader was wearing me down.
It was only by the greatest endeavour that I could keep his pistol in check, and though I had a hold on his throat my fingers were aching unbearably under the strain.
He struck me again savagely and I shook him with all my might: he flung back into the box and dashed me against the wall: he tried to trip me and slammed me over the heart: then he put up his hand and tore my trembling fingers away from his throat.
I confess he deserved this triumph, for, though his lungs must have been bursting, he had made all the running and had never once ceased to attack.
I could hear him striving to shout, but his voice was gone. Then he sought my throat again, but I caught his wrist.
We were now both much exhausted and breathing hard, and only the thought of the pistol kept me from letting him go. Indeed, I was desperate, for I had the feeling that he was nursing his strength and that after a moment or two he would break away.
All at once I became aware that trouble of some sort was brewing without the box, for I heard a gasp of protest and the fall of a heavy body upon the stone; but before I could think what this meant, Grieg made a mighty effort to shake me off.
I am ready to confess that he did with me as he pleased, except that he could not free his pistol arm. I might have been a man of straw, so lightly did he fling and buffet me this way and that. I had to release his right wrist that my left hand might go to the help of my right, and so met a punishment that bade fair any moment to lay me low. Indeed, I hung on blindly, like a man in a trance.
Had he cared to drop the pistol I am sure that he could have killed me, for I should have let his wrist go without a thought: but we were both beyond tactics and even our instinct was failing beneath the strain.
Suddenly the box was illumined as bright as day.
The light came from behind me and fell on George Hanbury’s face.
He was lying as I had laid him, and the table had fallen across him with its legs in the air. And that is why, I suppose; we had not trampled upon him, for whenever we touched the table we had, by one consent, contrived to sheer off for fear of becoming involved.
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