The sound of the starting car brought two of the troopers up at a
gallop. The sight of the Uhlan helmets did not at first inspire them
with distrust, but merely with curiosity that Uhlans should have been
employed in unusual work. The three men left in front of the house,
however, came running to the gates, shouting somewhat incoherently. The
words "Spionen!" and "Belgen!" were distinguishable. Their cries were
taken up by the troopers, and vociferated to their comrades riding
leisurely along. At the prospect of a spy hunt they pricked their
horses to a gallop, and set off in chase of the car, now almost out of
sight.
"The German camp is in this direction, you told us?" said Kenneth to
Granger.
"Yes; there is a by-road just before we reach it. The enemy are not
likely to be coming towards us."
The road was heavy and deeply rutted from the recent passage of cumbrous
transport wagons and artillery. Kenneth found the acceleration of the
car slow, and in any case the weight of the armour with which its vital
parts were protected would have rendered it incapable of high speed.
For a time the horsemen appeared to gain on it, and Pariset, who had
taken charge of the machine gun, swung it round to cover the rear, ready
to open fire if they drew too near.
"Don't fire if you can help it," Granger said. "It would be a pity to
disturb the camp ahead."
After a few minutes the car began to draw away. Pariset saw one of the
troopers rein up, and expected him to fire over the holster of his
saddle. But the man dismounted, and just as the car swung out of sight
at a bend of the road, he was clambering up a telegraph pole. Pariset
hurriedly informed his friends.
"We must stop and cut the wires," said Kenneth, jamming on the brakes.
Lifting the lid of the tool box, he seized a pair of nippers.
"Evidently meant for the job," he said.
"Give them to me," cried Granger. "You stick to the car."
He sprang out, and swarmed up the nearest pole with an agility
surprising in a man of his venerable aspect. Before he was half way up,
however, the head of the column rounded the corner.
"There's no help for it," said Pariset. "Here goes!"
Next moment there was a sharp metallic crack. The car trembled.
"Three horses down!" cried Pariset. "The rest are swinging in to the
side of the road. If Granger is quick--ah! he has done it. They are
not coming on again yet."
Granger slid down the pole, jumped into the car, and again they were
off.
"We shall have to cut it again in another mile or so," said Pariset.
"If we don't meet the enemy before then," rejoined Granger. "Or we can
pretend we are chased by Belgians and dash through."
But in less than a mile they found that the wires left the road and ran
across country.
"We can't navigate fields of stubble," said Kenneth. "The only thing to
be done is to go ahead at full speed, and trust to luck. Let's hope
that before any message they send can take effect we shall have reached
that by-road. Where does it lead to?"
"To Durbuy, I think," said Granger. "There's a bridge across the
Ourthe. The Germans may be there; they move so confoundedly fast; but
that's our only chance of reaching the Belgian lines."
In a few minutes they reached the by-road to the left. It was narrow,
but, to Kenneth's joy, not so deeply rutted as the main road. He was
getting the utmost out of the car, which thundered along at forty miles
an hour, the engine knocking furiously whenever it was called upon to
breast an incline.
For some distance they neither met nor passed any traffic. When at last
they overtook an empty farm cart, the driver had barely time or space to
draw into the side to avoid them. A few yards further on in rounding a
curve Kenneth saw a heavy motor transport wagon ahead, going in the same
direction. At the sound of the horn the driver looked round, and seeing
the armoured car manned apparently by Uhlans he drew in hastily to the
bank, no doubt supposing that it was engaged in urgent work. Kenneth
slowed down slightly to avoid a collision, scraped past, then raced on
as before.
In less than half a minute afterwards he gave a cry of dismay. At the
foot of a short hill two heavily laden carts were drawn full across the
road. Kenneth jammed on the brakes, foot and hand; Granger, rendered
suspicious by the position of the carts and the absence of horses, stood
up and in a moment shouted to Pariset, his voice rising above the
groaning and shrieking of the mechanism.
"Germans in bushes!"
Pariset had seen them almost as soon as Granger. Before the car had
come to a standstill within a dozen yards of the obstruction, the
machine gun began to spit bullets in reply to the fusillade that rattled
on the armoured sides of the car and the shield of the gun. A few
seconds of brisk firing; then the deadly hail from the machine gun
crashing through the foliage into the ranks of the ambuscaders made
their position hopelessly untenable, and a remnant of the Horse
Grenadiers who had lain in hiding there fled helter skelter over the
adjacent fields.
The three men sprang out of the car, and tried to drag the carts out of
the way. They failed to move them, and Granger discovered that they
were chained together.
"A hammer!" he cried.
But the hammer snatched from the toolbox proved useless. The links of
the chain had been flattened by some heavy instrument. After repeated
blows it was evident that the chain was unbreakable.
"What on earth is to be done?" cried Kenneth, looking helplessly at the
carts, while Pariset and Granger kept on the watch for any sign of the
enemy returning. A shot from the machine gun would probably be
ineffective, even at short range; the bullet would hardly dent the
chain, much less shatter it and release the carts.
At this critical moment the transport wagon which they had passed some
way back appeared on the crest of the hill behind them, and sounded its
horn. Kenneth had a flash of inspiration.
"Look out for the Grenadiers, Remi," he cried. "There's no sign of
them, but they may come back. If they do, turn the gun on to them."
"What are you going to do?" shouted Pariset, as Kenneth ran up the
incline towards the halted wagon.
"Commandeer the wagon for a battering ram. There's apparently no
escort. Back the car well away to the right."
Reaching the wagon, he said to the driver:
"The rascally enemy has blocked the road, as you see. The carts there
are chained together. Get out, quickly!"
The three infantrymen in the wagon were obviously amazed, not so much at
being ordered about by a Uhlan, as at the apparent purposelessness of
the command. They got out, however, and were still more astonished when
the masterful Uhlan mounted into their place, and after a glance at the
car below, released the brakes, let in the clutch, and sent the wagon
lumbering down the hill. For a few seconds, while the vehicle was
gathering speed, Kenneth steered straight; then, turning the wheel so as
to give a slight tendency to the left, he sprang off, fell sprawling,
jumped up and ran after the wagon, watching its course eagerly.
On it thundered, every moment faster. Would it reach the foot of the
hill, or swerve into the bank on the left? On, and on--and then, at a
speed of twenty miles an hour, it struck the left-hand cart with a
terrific crash, and threw both cart and itself in a pile of wreckage up
the bank and into the field beyond. The chain connecting the carts had
snapped like rotten cord.
[Illustration: CLEARING THE ROAD]
"Bravo!" shouted the two men waiting beside the motor-car.
Rushing forward, they helped Kenneth to draw the released cart to one
side, leaving a clear space between it and the wreckage. Then they
leapt into the car, waved their hands to the astonished motormen above,
and started forward towards Durbuy and safety.
"We are all right now--unless the Germans are in greater force than I
believe," said Granger, taking a map from his pocket. "If we can cross
the river at Durbuy, we can run due west to Dinant, where we shall
probably find the Belgian, or maybe the French lines. Then we can swing
northwards, and get to headquarters somewhere between Tirlemont and
Brussels."
A run of a few miles brought them within sight of the river winding away
to the east, and the little town--a mere village in point of size--of
Durbuy. But here they perceived with dismay that the course they had
planned was not feasible. Along the road between Barvaux and Durbuy a
large German force was on the march. Their leading companies were
already crossing the quaint old bridge, covered by troops of Hussars on
both banks.
"Pull up," said Granger. "We shall have to go back and make a round.
News of us has no doubt been flashed by this time to every German force
in the neighbourhood."
Kenneth was backing the car when Granger noticed signs of movement among
the cavalry on the near bank. A squadron formed up, faced towards the
slight hill, and started at a canter in the direction of the car.
"There's no time to lose," cried Granger. "Reverse and turn round."
But at that moment Kenneth observed, just ahead, a narrow road running
east for a few yards, then curving to the north.
"Better try and cut across them," he said. "If we go back we may run
into another lot and be caught between two fires."
"Very well. The road isn't marked on my map, but we'll chance it."
Kenneth had already brought the gear lever from reverse to first. He
let in the clutch; the car started forward again, and before the
advancing horsemen were half way up the hill the fugitives swung round
into the by-road. When the Hussars reached the turning the car was two
or three hundred yards ahead and rounding the curve.
"I'm afraid we've done for ourselves," said Kenneth ruefully. "The road
is awful."
It was indeed scarred with deep ruts, almost like the furrows in a
ploughed field, and thick with mud from the recent rain. The car swayed
violently, jumping in and out of the ruts. In spite of its powerful
build, Kenneth doubted whether the axles and springs would stand the
strain. The wheels, moreover, sank so deep into the mud that the speed
of the car fell away to what seemed to the occupants little more than a
crawl.
The Hussars were galloping hotly after them. Some were deploying across
the open fields on both sides of the road, to gain time at the windings
of the latter. The distance between car and horsemen was steadily
lessening; it seemed that for once muscle was about to conquer
mechanism.
Kenneth was wholly occupied with the steering of the car. Pariset kept
his eyes fixed on the pursuers. They were about fifty in number, at a
distance no match for the machine gun, but if they were allowed to close
up, especially if they got ahead, the occupants of the car would be at
their mercy in the event of any sudden check. He watched for a
favourable moment for bringing the gun into play.
After innumerable short windings the road ran straight for a
considerable distance. The leading horsemen, now within a hundred yards
of the car, began to fire as they rode. Pariset instantly replied,
working the gun in a long arc from left to right. It was not for
nothing that the German staff had made the machine gun one of the
predominant features of their armament. Under the pitiless hail of
bullets horses and men went down like grass under the scythe. The
Hussars behind slowed down, allowing the car to increase its lead, but
still keeping it in view, hoping no doubt that an accident, an obstacle,
a piece of clumsy steering, would bring its career to an end. They might
then close upon it and surround it without having to face that terrible
machine gun again. Pariset, for his part, anxious not to attract the
attention of any enemies who might be ahead, ceased fire as soon as the
pursuit slackened.
Their direction was towards Liege. Now and then they caught sight of
the Ourthe, winding below them on their left, but there was no sign of a
bridge. Mile after mile passed. The road was a continual up and down;
on each side was a variegated landscape of meadows, richly wooded slopes
and frowning cliffs. The sight of the railway crossing the river
reminded Kenneth that they were approaching the scene of their exploit;
but Pariset had no eyes for anything but the helmets of the Uhlans
bobbing up and down on the road far behind.
Presently they dashed past a battalion of infantry marching in the same
direction. The men all looked dead tired, and took little or no notice
of the car as it passed at increased speed. A few minutes later they
skirted the chateau of Hamoir, then ascended a steep hill, the engine
knocking alarmingly, and rushing through the village of Louveigne
suddenly came in sight of an immense military encampment. Far to left
and right of the road stretched the lines of the Germans encircling
Liege. Tents, carts, caissons, batteries of artillery, men on horse and
on foot extended as far as the eye could reach.
But there was no sign of active operations. Troops were drilling on
open spaces, practising the ridiculous goose-step; men off duty were
strolling about. Smoke ascended from innumerable travelling kitchens.
Horsemen were riding this way and that: a motor cyclist was dashing away
to the east.
When this spectacle flashed upon the view, Kenneth slowed down. His
face was pale.
"Push through and trust to luck?" he said to Granger at his side.
"There's nothing else for it, with pursuers hot on our track," replied
Granger. "Speed about ten miles, but be ready to let her out."
They went on. Curious glances were thrown at them by troops of cavalry
off-saddled by the roadside. Uhlans in an armoured car! They must be
on special service. With his heart in his mouth Kenneth followed the
road for a full mile through the lines. The country became clearer of
men as they proceeded, but as Kenneth was again increasing speed he
noticed a strong force of infantry posted ahead of them at some distance
to the right of the road.
"They are supports," said Pariset. "We shall find a battery ahead."
In less than two miles they came to a number of ammunition and transport
wagons, parked in the rear of a battery of six guns. A patrol on the
road signalled to them to halt. Kenneth pulled up, but before the
sergeant could address him, he asked urgently:
"Where is the commandant? Quick! I haven't a minute to lose."
The man pointed to a spot about half a mile in front. Kenneth, without
waiting for more, opened out, and the car quickly gained speed.
"It's touch and go now," he said, almost in a whisper.
"The guns are unlimbered for action," said Pariset. "If we pass they'll
know we are enemies."
"Nothing else for it," replied Kenneth, setting his teeth. "We must
trust to our speed. Keep a look-out, Granger."
Thenceforth he concentrated all his attention upon the car. It sped on,
crossed a small bridge over a rivulet, and swept up a short hill on the
near side of which six guns were emplaced.
"Eight inchers," murmured Granger. He had his eye fixed on the officer
who had been pointed out as the commandant, and who, at this moment, was
listening at the receiver of a field telephone. As the car approached
he dropped the receiver and gave an order. The soldier next him ran
towards the guns, shouting to the artillerymen, who appeared to be
laying their weapons.
"The game is up!" said Granger. "He's had word of us. Press her,
Amory."
Kenneth opened the throttle to the utmost, and the car leapt forward
like a living thing. It dashed past the commandant, past the group of
gunners, topped the rise, and thundered down the slope beyond. A few
revolver shots rattled on the armour.
"We're safe for a little, while they alter the range," said Granger,
assuring himself at a glance that no one had been hit.
The car was now running at a furious pace, the road having recently been
repaired, no doubt for the easier passage of the guns. Kenneth knew
that he was directly in the line of fire of the battery. On his left
wound the Ourthe, with the railway almost parallel with it beyond; and
as the car rushed between two clumps of woodland Pariset called over his
shoulder that he had just caught sight of Fort de Boncelles, two or
three miles to the west, and Fort d'Embourg a little nearer to the east.
"Which shall we make for?" gasped Kenneth.
"Boncelles," replied Granger. "It is nearer the French lines. We can
cross by the iron bridge just below Tilff."
On they went. Second after second passed; a minute, two minutes. They
swept round to the left towards the bridge. There was still no shot
from the guns.
"They were trained on Boncelles," said Granger. "We are too near them
still."
He had scarcely spoken when there was a moaning in the air, followed
instantly by a roar and crash, and a thick cloud of black smoke sprang
up some four hundred yards to the right. They all crouched low in the
car, which dashed across the throbbing bridge at forty miles an hour.
Another shell plunged into the river, a third struck the road a few
yards behind them, as they entered the railway arch, bespattering them
with earth. No sooner had they emerged on the other side than still
another shell burst ahead of them, in the field beside the road. They
all caught their breath: if it had fallen a few yards to the right, it
would have dug a hole large enough to engulf the car.
Shells now began to explode, as it seemed, all around them. The sky was
darkened by the smoke, poisonous fumes almost choked them. Only the
great speed of the car and the slight changes in its direction due to
the windings of the road preserved them from annihilation. The thought
that flashed through Pariset's mind was that if the Germans had used
shrapnel instead of shell they must almost certainly have been
destroyed, for he could not doubt that the whole battery was now playing
upon them.
With shells hurtling around at intervals of a few seconds Kenneth, so
intent upon his work as to be scarcely conscious of them, steered the
car up the road, taking the curves at a pace that would have made his
hair stand on end at less critical times. It almost seemed that he and
his companions had charmed lives. At moments, as the road wound, the
fort came in sight beyond the ruined village--burnt by the Belgians to
clear their line of fire. Would they reach it in safety? The nearer
they approached it, the greater their danger. The gunners had the range
of the fort; a shell falling short even by a few yards might strike the
car at the very moment when escape seemed sure.
"Only half a mile more!" Pariset said, in a hoarse whisper from his
parched lips.
Two seconds afterwards there was a stunning report and a blinding flash,
apparently from beneath the car. It spun round and round like a
teetotum, then fell over to one side with a crash.
For a few moments the three men were too much shaken to move. In the
consciousness of them all those moments were a blank. They lay on the
roadside where they had been thrown, like dead men. Then they realised
with a shock of surprise that they were alive. Pariset was up first.
Before he had time to stagger to the others, Kenneth sprang to his feet.
Granger moved more slowly, and when he too stood erect, it was seen that
his false beard was gone.
"I feel cold," he said, touching his chin, and smiling, though he was
pale as death.
They glanced at the car. The off front wheel had disappeared; the off
hind wheel was buckled; the bonnet and radiator were a mass of twisted
iron. It was a complete wreck.
A shell bursting little more than a hundred yards away warned them to be
gone, and they started to run towards the fort.
"Hellwig!" exclaimed Kenneth suddenly.
They ran back. The spy, the man whom the Kaiser delighted to honour,
lay huddled in the bottom of the car, under the machine gun. It had
broken his neck.
"Poor devil!" murmured Granger.
They turned hastily, and ran on silently, each thinking his own
thoughts. Pariset was the least concerned at Hellwig's fate. To him
Hellwig was merely a German and a spy, who had met with his deserts.
Granger, whatever his private animus against Hellwig, could not but
remember that they were members of one profession, who faced the same
perils and might suffer the same end. Kenneth was the most deeply
affected. He had disliked Hellwig, and had the average Englishman's
contempt and hatred of spying. It was the one thing that alloyed his
liking for Granger. But, as he said to Pariset afterwards:
"If there must be spying, and I suppose there must, it is something to
spy like a gentleman, and that I am sure Granger does."
The three men came to the glacis. A roar startled them and made them
duck instinctively. The fort had opened fire on the German battery.
They raced up, past empty trenches, still followed by shell; but they
now presented an inconspicuous mark to the gunners more than three miles
distant. It was a long uphill climb, but they panted on towards the
door of safety.
Was it safety? Their way across the moat was barred by a group of
Belgian engineers with rifles, amazed at the appearance of two men in
Uhlan uniform. Pariset held up his hands.
"Lieutenant Montoisy!" he shouted. "Is he here?"
The men lowered their rifles and advanced. Pariset hastened to meet
them.
"We are friends," he said. "Tell Lieutenant Montoisy that Lieutenant
Pariset is here."
One of the men ran back. A shell burst on the wall some distance to the
right.
"Come inside, messieurs," said another of the men.
And as they entered, Lieutenant Montoisy, the second in command, a
begrimed haggard figure, met them.
"Pariset!" he exclaimed. "You were in the car? Mon Dieu! You have had
an escape! Come in: what is the meaning of it?"