CHRIS TO THE RESCUE.
It was the delay which had been fatal to the plan. The minutes during
which we had had to wait before Gatrina could be made to understand who
we were and what our object was had just turned the balance against us.
“What dreadful thing has happened?” she asked.
“I cannot spare a moment to explain. If you will play the part of being
my prisoner there is yet a chance of getting away.”
“I am sorry,” she said, as her maid brought her a cloak and hat.
“Silence there,” I cried in a loud voice. “Fall in. I am sorry my
duty is so unpleasant, your highness; but I can answer no questions.
Forward.”
I led the way motioning to Karasch to walk at Gatrina’s side, with two
of the men in front and two bringing up the rear. The women thinking
the thing real began to weep.
I had heard the soldiers coming up and they met us on the stairs. The
only chance was to put as bold a face as possible on the matter and
with as much show of authority as I could assume, I said:
“Is the way from the house clear? I shall take the prisoner by the back
through the garden.”
I had expected to be faced by some of the men we had fought with
earlier, but to my intense relief there were none but private soldiers
and one sergeant; and on seeing my captain’s uniform they stood aside
and saluted.
“We have not been to the back of the house, captain,” replied the
sergeant.
“Is Colonel Petrosch here yet?” I asked this as I thought the mention
of the name might impress him.
“No, sir.”
“Who’s in command of the soldiers in the front?”
“Lieutenant Bulver, captain.”
“Is he in sufficient force to control the mob?”
“He has a strong body of troops, captain.”
“What are you doing in the house?” I was curious to know whether the
escape of the soldiers had anything to do with it.
“We were detailed to see if the arrest had yet been made, captain, and
to assist you if necessary.”
I breathed a little more freely.
“All I need is that the mob there be kept in the front of the house so
that I can get away with the prisoner quietly at the back. That side
street must be cleared of people. How did you get into the house?”
“We forced a small door at the side, captain.”
This accounted for his not knowing anything of what had gone on below
stairs in the basement.
Then came the sound of more hooting and groaning from the front of the
house; and another volley of stones breaking more of the windows. This
in turn was followed by sharp words of command; and a knocking at the
front door.
Keeping up my policy of bluff, I opened it myself. The officer was on
the step and started in surprise at seeing me. He was a pleasant-faced
young fellow, and taking me for a superior officer was disposed to
offer an apology. Bluff is an excellent policy while you can keep your
end up.
“Oh, I thought only a sergeant was here,” he said.
“I deemed it best to come myself,” I answered. “Can’t you keep the
crowd in order?”
“They are very strong and inclined to violence. We’ve driven them back
for a bit; but I’ve sent for more men.”
I knew they would be on hand sooner than he thought or I wished; but I
replied, seriously: “Very prudent. This sort of thing is not what we
want at all. The house was to be protected.”
“We did not look for such a demonstration,” he said again,
apologetically.
“Well, I have made the arrest, but I had more trouble than I
anticipated; there was a stout resistance. I wish to take the prisoner
away without exposing her to the mob. Let your men clear the side
street of people, and prevent anyone passing into it. I shall leave the
house by the garden through the stables.”
“We are strong enough to protect her from the crowd.”
“I prefer the other way, lieutenant. Be good enough to see my order
carried out,” I replied sharply.
“I’ll have it done at once,” and he went away.
“You had better help the lieutenant, sergeant; he will need all the men
he can have.”
In this way I got rid of him and his men also, and I shut the door
again, with a fervent sigh of thankfulness that my imposture had not
been detected. I had caught the lieutenant eyeing me curiously more
than once during the short colloquy; but I concluded that he took me
for one of the officers who had been drafted in from the provincial
regiments for the grim work of that night. And probably my air and tone
of authority had stopped him from putting any questions which I should
have found exceedingly hard to answer.
Whatever his reasons, I had succeeded in bluffing him, even at the very
moment when I had given up all as lost; and my hopes began to rise that
even in the teeth of all this force and despite the anger of the mob,
Gatrina would be saved.
“We’ll make for the garden at once,” I said; and we passed through the
room with the French window opening on to the garden, and hurried to
the stables.
As we passed we could hear the troops clearing the street amid the
expostulations and cries of the crowd, as they were swept on toward the
front.
Until now Gatrina had not spoken to me, but we had to wait while the
way was cleared and we stood side by side and a little apart from the
rest.
“You have run a terrible risk, Mr. Bergwyn,” she said.
“I have been in no danger; and we shall get away all right.”
“What has happened at the Palace?”
“I don’t know. I got wind of this intended arrest of you and came here
in the hope of intercepting the soldiers. As I was on my way, a very
large body of troops, some hundreds of men, passed me marching on the
Palace; and afterwards I heard the sound of firing. But what occurred
after that I have no knowledge whatever.”
She wrung her hands despairingly.
“Do you think--oh, God, it is maddening.”
“It is the work of the army. I know so much. And I hope they have done
no more than to force an abdication.”
“You say that as if you feared--I know not what horrors.”
“If we once get clear of this we shall find out what has occurred. But
we could do nothing if we wished. You have seen for yourself the temper
of the people. They have sided with the army.”
“You mean the attack on my house?”
“Yes. The city is mad to-night, and would do anything. The only thing
to think of now is your safety. Karasch, look over if we can go yet.”
I was on fire with impatience to be away; but Karasch reported that the
street was not yet clear.
“Is there no other way we could escape?” I asked Gatrina.
She shook her head. “No, none,” she replied.
“I dare not wait here, Karasch; we shall be caught in a trap;” and
opening the door in the stable gates I looked out; but only to shut it
again quickly as I caught my breath in dismay at what I saw.
Another body of troops were coming towards us at the double, and by the
side of the officer in command ran a man in his shirt sleeves. It was
the soldier who had escaped from us.
“We are too late,” I said, as calmly as I could speak. “There are more
troops, Karasch, and that man is guiding them. We must go back to the
house and try to get away from the front.”
We hurried back through the garden, and before we reached the house the
newcomers were already clamouring at the stable gates.
Dashing through the house I flung open the front door.
But that way was impossible. The very orders I had given, to have the
crowd massed in the front of the house, had effectually barred the
chance of escape. They had been driven from the side street and were
now surging and swaying in a dense mass to the right of the house, too
vast a crowd for me to hope of pushing my way through them with the
handful of men I had.
To go to the left meant only running into the arms of the fresh troops;
certain capture.
I called Karasch and pointed to the hopelessness of the attempt.
“We can do nothing. You and the men must get away.”
“And you?” he asked.
“I shall stay with the Princess.”
“Then I stay too, with you,” he said sturdily.
“No, you can do better. You can save us both. You and the others. You
can pretend to carry a message from me to the lieutenant--that I want
to speak to him; and then lose yourselves among the soldiers or in the
crowd. Get away as fast as you can, and search high and low to find
Colonel Petrosch. Don’t forget the name, and find him at any hazard.
Tell him that my life is in danger and that he must come here if it is
not to be lost. If he questions you, tell him plainly all I have done.
Now go.”
“I don’t like leaving you,” he insisted.
“For God’s sake, man, don’t be a fool. It’s the only way out of the
tightest fix I was ever in. You must reach him before he hears the news
these others are bringing. Go;” and I half pushed him out of the house.
The rest were only too eager to be off, and I watched breathlessly as
Karasch crossed the cleared space, spoke to the lieutenant, who looked
over at me and after hesitating, walked toward me.
As he came, I saw Karasch and his men move back to the soldiers, push
through the ranks, and disappear in the crowd behind them.
“What have you done?” asked Gatrina.
“I have sent for someone who may get us out of the mess I have been
clever enough to get us into. I don’t know what’s going to happen
first.”
The lieutenant entered the house then.
“You wish to speak to me, captain?” he asked.
“It’s just as well to you as to another. I’m only masquerading in this
uniform. I am not an officer at all.”
He stared at me openmouthed in sheer amazement.
“No officer?” he stammered. “I don’t understand.”
“You soon will. There are those coming who will make it all plain to
you. But having misled you purposely, I wished to tell you; that’s
all.” I spoke as coolly as though I had been announcing a mere business
fact.
“The soldiers who were with you?” he asked then, glancing round as if
in search of them.
“They are gone,” I told him.
Then we heard a noise in the basement. Loud voices, the tramp of many
feet, and a rush up the stairs.
“We’ll wait for them here,” I said to Gatrina, pointing to a room at
the back of the house; and we all three went into it, Chris keeping
close by her side.
“You are my prisoner, sir,” said the lieutenant.
“I shall offer no resistance,” I replied, making it sound as much like
a concession on my part as I could.
I put a chair for Gatrina and she sat down, while I stood beside her.
The next minute the soldiers came crowding into the room with the
sergeant and men whose uniforms we had taken in their midst. They
were all talking at once and gesticulating at once angrily, making a
sort of Babel of tongues, in which fierce denunciations of me were
disquietingly loud and conspicuous.
The officer in charge of the newcomers exchanged a few words with the
lieutenant, describing excitedly the heinous deed of which I had been
guilty. I disliked the look of him intensely--a heavy, red-haired
bully of a man, and when he addressed me he did so in a hectoring tone
difficult to hear without anger.
“So we’ve arrived in time to take you red-handed, my fine fellow, eh?”
“Red-handed? In doing what?” I asked, meeting his beetle-browed stare
firmly.
“Don’t try to bluster with me. I’m the wrong man,” he cried, hotly. “It
won’t pay you, I promise you.”
“He was one of them, captain. I’ll swear to him. And that’s the dog
that flew at me,” said the sergeant.
“Take the beast out and shoot it,” ordered the captain, brutally.
Chris was in no immediate danger of that fate, however. Two of the
soldiers went toward him but he shewed his great fangs and looked so
dangerous, that they stopped and stepped back; and no other volunteers
offered for the job.
Angered at this the captain himself drew a revolver and pointed it at
the dog, but I checkmated this by calling Chris round behind me.
“Don’t you dare to interfere with my orders,” cried the bully,
furiously.
I answered this by putting myself right in the line of fire. “I will
not have the dog shot in this way.”
“The dog is in my house and under my protection,” exclaimed Gatrina.
“You are my prisoners, both of you; and as for you,” he said, with a
coarse sneer to Gatrina, “your day is done, and your protection will
avail nothing. You’ll find that out soon enough.” But he put up his
revolver; and as we had gained the point, it wasn’t policy to anger him
further with the hot remonstrance that rose to my lips.
“Did this man give you his name?” he asked the lieutenant, who shook
his head and shrugged his shoulders. I think he was more than a little
ashamed of his superior’s manner. “What’s your name, prisoner?”
demanded the captain next.
“I am perfectly willing to explain everything I have done; but I should
prefer to do so before a smaller audience.”
“I daresay you would, but you’re not in a position to choose. I settle
that. Now answer my questions and don’t try to lie to me.”
The colour leapt to my face at this. “There is no need to insult me,
captain. It will neither hurt my case, nor help yours.”
“By God, if you don’t answer me at once I’ll have you marched down into
the garden there and shot for a traitor and a cur.”
I couldn’t take that. It made me mad. Clipping my words short I
answered, deliberately:
“I think that would be the better plan, then. It will at least free me
from the presence of a cad and a bully; and the lieutenant there will,
I am sure, have the courage and justice to tell the truth of your act.”
He swore a deep oath, beside himself with rage.
“Seize him,” he shouted. “By God, seize him, and take him out and shoot
him.”
I was seized by three soldiers.
“Lieutenant, you will tell Colonel Petrosch how I, his personal friend,
have been condemned without a hearing.”
“Away with him,” shouted the captain, stamping with rage. The men began
to lead me away.
“This is murder, and shall not be done,” cried Gatrina, jumping to her
feet.
“Silence, woman,” exclaimed the bully. “Your doom is near, too.”
“I will not be silent while murder is being done. I call upon all of
you to stop this murder. You, sir,” turning to the lieutenant. “You
will not----”
The captain, like a maniac in his fury at this interruption, drew his
sword and shouting out a vile epithet, rushed at Gatrina, intending, I
believe, to strike her down.
But Chris, whose ominous growl at my treatment I had had to pacify,
went almost as mad at this as the bully himself and with a savage growl
launched himself right at the captain’s throat, bore him to the ground,
and pinned him down, despite the blows and kicks which the soldiers
rained upon him.
“Loose him, Chris,” I cried, fearing the man would be killed; and at my
voice he obeyed. Then, as he was looking up to me, one of the soldiers
who had picked up the captain’s sword slashed at the dog’s leg and
when he dropped, the brute thrust the blade between his ribs.
With a cry of rage I broke from the men who held me and rushed to
Chris, but Gatrina was before me.
“You coward!” she cried to the soldier, who stood half gloating, half
dismayed at his act; and the next moment my fist crashed into his face,
knocking him sprawling among his comrades.
As I bent over my gallant dog, my heart full of sadness and pity for
him, I was seized again by the men, and such a scene of confusion and
riot followed as baffles description.
They beat me, of course, and I was dragged back and held panting,
struggling, straining, breathing out impotent threats, and cursing all
who had had a hand in the cruel work, as I strove vainly to get again
to the spot where Gatrina, white-faced and pitying, knelt by the dear
dog, who had so valiantly given his life to save her.
Another group had the bully of a captain for its centre. He was getting
up, all bloody about the throat where Chris had fastened on him, and
madder than ever with rage, gasped out a repetition of his orders to
have Gatrina seized and me taken away and shot.
Still fighting with the men about me I was being lugged and hustled and
thrust out of the room, oblivious to everything but my insensate rage,
and they had got me to the door when two officers entered the house.
“What is this riot?” cried one in a loud, stern tone; and the men
about me started instantly at the voice and I felt their grip on me to
relax.
“It is murder; nothing else,” I shouted; and taking advantage of my
captors’ surprise, I broke from them and rushed back into the room to
Gatrina and my poor Chris.
“Is he dead?” I asked her.
She looked up and I read the truth by the tears in her eyes.
“Poor, faithful Chris,” she murmured, with a deep sigh, as her hand
gently caressed the great head.
I could not speak. I had loved the dog so well--and never better than
in the manner of his death. I bent over him for a moment with a feeling
of irreparable loss, as at the death of a friend.
“He gave his life for me, Bourgwan. Poor old comrade,” murmured Gatrina
using, unconsciously I think, the old term.
In that moment the tie of our common sorrow for the dog’s death brought
us as close together as even in those past days in the hills.
I made no reply. I could not. I was tongue-tied by the hampering rush
of mingled emotions.