THE WOODEN HORSE OF TROY
The question struck Dalroy as so bizarre--in the conditions so
ludicrous--that, despite the cold fury evoked by Von Halwig's innuendoes
with regard to Irene, he nearly laughed.
"I am in no mood to discuss international politics," he answered curtly.
The other, who seemed to have his temper well under control, merely
nodded. Indeed, he was obviously, if unconsciously, modelling his
behaviour on that of his prisoner.
"I only imagined that you might be interested in hearing what's going to
happen to your damned country," he said.
"I know already. She will emerge from this struggle greater, more
renowned, more invincible than ever."
"_Dummes zeug!_ All rubbish! That's your House of Commons and music-hall
patter, meant to tickle the ears of the British working-man. England is
going to be wiped off the map. We're obliterating her now. You've been
in Belgium a month, and must have seen things which your stupid John
Bulls at home can't even comprehend, which they never will comprehend
till too late."
He paused, awaiting a reply perhaps. None came.
"It's rough luck that you, a soldier like myself, may not share in the
game, even on the losing side," went on Von Halwig. "But you would be a
particularly dangerous sort of spy if you contrived to reach England,
especially with the information I'm now going to give you. You can't
possibly escape, of course. You will be executed, not as a spy, but as a
murderer. You left a rather heavy mark on us. Two soldiers in a hut near
Vise, three officers and a private in the mill, five soldiers in the
wood at Argenteau----"
"You flatter me," put in Dalroy. "I may have shot one fellow in the
wood, a real spy, named Schwartz. But that is all. Your men killed one
another there."
"The credit was given to you," was the dry retort. "But--_es ist mir
ganz einerlei_--what does it matter? You're an intelligent Englishman,
and that is why I am taking the trouble to tell you exactly why Great
Britain will soon be Little Britain. Understand, I'm supplying facts,
not war bulletins. On land you're beaten already. Our armies are near
Paris. German cavalry entered Chantilly to-day. Your men made a great
stand, and fought a four days' rearguard action which will figure in the
text-books for the next fifty years. But the French are broken, the
English Expeditionary Force nearly destroyed. The French Government has
deserted Paris for Bordeaux. And, excuse me if I laugh, Lord Kitchener
has asked for a hundred thousand more men!"
"He will get five millions if he needs them."
Von Halwig swept the retort aside with an impatient flourish.
"Too late! Too late! I'll prove it to you. Turkey is joining us.
Bulgaria will come in when wanted. Greece won't lift a finger in the
Balkans, and a great army of Turks led by Germans will march on Egypt.
South Africa will rise in rebellion. Ireland is quiet for the time, but
who knows what will happen when she sees England on her knees? Italy is
sitting on the fence. The United States are snivelling, but German
influence is too strong out there to permit of active interference. And,
in any event, what can America do except look on, shivering at the
prospect of her own turn coming next? Russia is making a stir in East
Prussia and along the Austrian frontier, so poor Old England is
chortling because the Slav is fighting her battles. It is to laugh.
We'll pen the Bear long before he becomes dangerous. I am not boasting,
my friend. Why should _I_, Captain von Halwig of the Imperial Guard, be
messing about in a wretched Flemish village when our men are about to
storm Paris in the west and tackle Russia in the east? I'll explain. I'm
here because I know England so well. My job is to help in organising the
invading force which will gather at Calais. Ah! that amuses you, does
it? The British fleet is the obstacle, eh? Not it. Seriously now, do you
regard us Germans as idiots? No; I'm sure you don't. You _know_. These
fellows in Parliament _don't_ know. I assure you, on my honour, our
general staff is confident that a German army will land on British
soil--in Britain itself I mean--before Christmas."
The speaker interrupted this flood of dire prophecy in order to light a
fresh cigarette. Then clasping his hands behind his back, and strutting
with feet well apart, he said quite affably, "Why don't you put a
question or two? If you believe I'm reciting a fairy tale, say so, and
point out the stupidities."
Now, Dalroy had not been "amused" by the statement that the Germans
might occupy Calais. He had already discounted even worse reverses as
lying well within the bounds of possibility. He was certain, too, that
the Prussian was saying that which he really believed. But his nerves of
steel were undoubtedly tried almost beyond endurance at the instant Von
Halwig noticed the involuntary movement which elicited that uninvited
comment on the British fleet.
As the word "Calais" quitted the Guardsman's lips, a rope, with a noose
at the end, dropped with swift stealth through the open trap-door. Its
descent was checked when the noose dangled slightly higher than his
head, and whoever was manipulating it began at once to swing it slowly
forward and backward. Von Halwig stood some six or seven feet nearer the
wall than the point which the rope would have touched if lowered to the
floor, so the objective aimed at by that pendulum action was not
difficult to grasp, being nothing else than his speedy and noiseless
extinction by hanging.
It is an oft-repeated though far-fetched assertion that a drowning man
reviews the whole of his life during the few seconds which separate the
last conscious struggle from complete anaesthesia. That may or may not be
true, but Dalroy now experienced a brain-storm not lacking many of the
essentials of some such mental kinema.
Think what that swinging rope, with its unseen human agency, meant to a
captive in his hapless position! It was simply incredible that one man
alone would attempt so daring an expedient. Not only, then, were a
number of plucky and resourceful allies concealed in the loft, but they
must have been hidden there before the detachment of Death's-Head
Hussars occupied the barn beneath. Therefore, they knew the enemy's
strength, yet were not afraid. That they were ready-witted was shown by
the method evolved for the suppression of that blatant Teuton, Von
Halwig. It was evident, too, that they had intended to lie _perdu_ till
the cavalry were gone, but had been moved to action by a desire to
rescue the bound Englishman who was being twitted so outrageously on
his own and his country's supposed misfortunes. Who could they be? Were
they armed, and sufficiently numerous to rout the Germans? In any event,
how could they deliver an effective attack? He, Dalroy, took it for
granted that the imminent strangulation of the Guardsman, if successful,
was but the prelude to a sharp fight, since Von Halwig's death, though
supremely dramatic as an isolated incident, would neither benefit the
prisoners nor conduce to the well-being of the people in the loft. How,
then, did they purpose dealing with a score of trained soldiers, who
must already be fidgeting in the rain, and whose leader, the corporal,
might look in at any moment to ascertain what was delaying the young
staff captain. Discipline was all very well, but these hussars belonged
to a crack regiment, and their colonel would resent strongly the
needless exposure of his men and horses to inclement weather. Moreover,
how easy it was for the corporal to convey a polite hint to Von Halwig
by asking if the chauffeur should not turn the car in readiness for his
departure!
All this, and more, cascaded through Dalroy's brain while his enemy was
lighting the second cigarette. He was in the plight of a shipwrecked
sailor clinging to a sinking craft, who saw a lifeboat approaching, yet
dared neither look at nor signal to it. He must bend all his energies
now to the task of keeping Von Halwig occupied. What would happen when
the noose coiled around the orator's neck? Would it tighten with
sufficient rapidity to choke a cry for help? Would it fall awkwardly,
and warn him? Were any of the troopers so placed that they could see
into that section of the barn, and thus witness their officer's
extraordinary predicament? Who could tell? How might a man form any sort
of opinion as to the yea or nay of a juggler's feat which savoured of
black magic?
Dalroy gave up the effort to guess what the next half-minute might bring
forth. Those mysterious beings up there needed the best help he could
offer, and his powers in that respect were strictly limited to two
channels--he must egg on the talker--he must not watch that rope.
"I am ready to admit Germany's strength on land," he said, resolutely
fixing his eyes on an iron cross attached to the Prussian's tunic above
the top button. "That is a reasonable claim. How futile otherwise would
have been your twenty years of preparation for this very war! But my
mind is far too dense to understand how you can disregard the English
Channel."
"The _English_ Channel!" scoffed Von Halwig. "The impudence of you
_verdammt_----No, it's foolish to lose one's temper. Well, I'll explain.
The really important part of the _English_ Channel is about to become
German. For a little time we leave you the surface, but Germany will
own the rest. Your navy is about to receive a horrible surprise. We've
caught you napping. While Britain was ruling the sea we Germans have
been experimenting with it. Our visible fleet is good, but not good
enough, so we allowed your naval superiority to keep you quiet until we
had perfected our invisible fleet. We are ready now. We possess three
submarines to your one; and can build more, and bigger, and better
under-sea boats than you. Do you realise what that means? Already we
have sunk four of your best cruisers, and they never saw the vessel that
destroyed them. We are playing havoc with your mercantile marine.
Britain is girdled with mines and torpedoes. No ship can enter or leave
any of your ports without incurring the almost unavoidable risk of----"
A rat scampered across one of the speaker's feet, and startled him.
He swore, dropped the cigarette, and lighted another, the third. Like
every junior officer of the German _corps d'elite_, he had sedulously
copied the manners and bearing of the commissioned ranks in the British
army. But your true German is neurotic; the rat had scratched the
veneer. Meanwhile the rope rose quickly half-way to the trap-door; it
fell again when Von Halwig donned the prophet's mantle once more.
"We can not only ruin and starve you," he said exultantly, "but we have
guns which will beat a way for our troops from Calais to Dover against
all the ships you dare mass in those waters. We have you bested in every
way. Each German company takes the field with more machine-guns than a
British regiment. We have high explosives you never heard of. While you
were playing polo and golf our chemists were busy in their
laboratories."
His voice rose as he reeled off this litany of war. His perfect command
of English was not proof against the guttural clank and crash of
German. He became a veritable German talking English, rather than an
accomplished linguist using a foreign tongue. Oddly enough, his next
tirade showed that he was half-aware of the change. "Old England is
done, Captain Dalroy," he chanted. "Young Germany is about to take her
place. The world must learn to speak German, not English. Six months
from now I'll begin to forget your makeshift language. Six months from
now the German Eagle will flaunt in the breeze as securely in London as
it flies to-day in Berlin and Brussels, and, it may be, in Paris. If I'm
lucky, and get through the war----_Gott in Himm_----"
With a sudden vicious swoop the noose settled on Von Halwig's shoulders,
and was jerked taut. A master-hand made that cast. No American cowboy
ever placed lasso more neatly on the horns of unruly steer. At one
instant the rope was swinging back and forth noiselessly; at the
next, rising under the impetus of a gentle flick, it whirled over the
Prussian's head and tightened around his neck. He tore madly at it with
both hands, but was already lifted off his feet, and in process of being
hauled upward with an almost incredible rapidity. There was a momentary
delay when his head reached the level of the trap-door; but Dalroy
distinctly saw two hands grasp the struggling arms and heave the
Guardsman's long body out of sight.
An astounding feature of this tragic episode was the absence of any
outcry on the victim's part. He uttered no sound other than a stifled
gurgle after that half-completed exclamation was stilled. Possibly, his
dazed wits concentrated on the one frantic endeavour--to get rid of that
horrible choking thing which had clutched at him from out of the
surrounding obscurity.
And now a thick knotted rope plumped down until its end lay on the
floor, and a rough-looking fellow, clothed like Maertz or Dalroy
himself, descended with the ease and agility of a monkey. He was just
the kind of shaggy goblin one might expect to emerge from any such
hiding-place; but he carried a slung rifle, and the bewildered prisoner,
taking a few steps forward to greet his rescuer, realised that the
weapon was a Lee-Enfield of the latest British army pattern.
"'Arf a mo', sir," gurgled the new-comer in a husky and cheerful
whisper. "I'll 'old the rope till the next of ahr little knot 'as
shinned dahn. Then I'll cut yer loose, an' we'll get the wind up
ahtside. Didjever 'ear such a gas-bag as that bloomin' Jarman? Lord luv'
a duck, 'e couldn't 'arf tork! But Shiney Black, one of ahrs, 'as just
shoved a bynit through 'is gizzard, so _that_ cock won't crow agine!"
Dalroy owned only a reader's knowledge of colloquial cockney. He
inferred, rather than actually understood, that several British soldiers
were secreted in the loft, and that one of them, named "Shiney Black,"
had closed Von Halwig's career in the twinkling of an eye.
By this time another man had reached the ground. He seized the rope and
steadied it, and a third appeared. The first gnome whipped out a knife,
freed Dalroy, unslung his rifle, and picked up the electric torch, which
he held so that its beam filled the doorway. Man after man came down.
Each was armed with a regulation rifle; Dalroy, for once thrown
completely off his balance, became dimly aware that in every instance
the equipment included bayonet, bandolier, and haversack.
The cohort formed up, too, as though they had rehearsed the procedure in
the gymnasium at Aldershot. There was no muttered order, no uncertainty.
Rifles were unslung, bayonets fixed, and safety catches turned over
soundlessly.
Conquering his blank amazement as best he could, Dalroy inquired of the
first sprite how many the party consisted of, all told.
"Twelve an' the corp'ral, sir," came the prompt answer. "The lucky
thirteen we calls ahrselves. An' we wanted a bit o' luck ter leg it all
the w'y from Monze to this 'ole. Not that we 'adn't ter kill any Gord's
quantity o' Yewlans when they troied ter be funny, an' stop us----Here's
the corp'ral, sir."
Dalroy was confronted by a clear-eyed man, whose square-shouldered
erectness was not concealed by the unkempt clothes of a Belgian peasant.
Carrying the rifle at "the slope," and bringing his right hand smartly
across to the small of the butt, the leader of this lost legion
announced himself.
"Corporal Bates, sir, A Company, 2nd Battalion of the Buffs. That German
officer made out, sir, that you were in our army."
"Yes, I am Captain Dalroy, of the 2nd Bengal Lancers."
Corporal Bates became, if possible, even more clear-eyed.
"Stationed where last year, sir?"
"At Lucknow, with your own battalion."
"Well, I'm--beg pardon, sir, but are you the Lieutenant Dalroy who rode
the winner of the Civil Service Cup?"
"Yes, the Maharajah of Chutneypore's Diwan."
"Good enough! You understand, sir, I _had_ to ask. Will you take
command, sir?"
"No indeed, corporal. I shall only humbly advise. But we must rescue the
lady."
"I heard and saw all that passed, sir. The Germans are mounted. The
lady's in the car. We were watching through a hole in the roof. The last
man remained there so as to warn us if any of 'em came this way. As you
know their lingo, sir, I recommend that when we creep out you tell 'em
to dismount. They'll do it like a shot. Then we'll rush 'em. Here's the
officer's pistol. _You_ might take care of the shuffer and the chap by
his side."
"Excellent, corporal. Just one suggestion. Let half of your men steal
round to the rear, whether or not the troopers dismount. They should be
headed off from Oombergen, the village near here, where they have two
squadrons."
"Right, sir.--Smithy, take the left half-section, and cut off the
retreat on the left.--Ready, sir?--Douse that glim!"
Out went the torch. Fourteen shadows flitted forth into the darkness and
rain. The car, with its staring head-lights, was drawn up about thirty
yards away, and somewhat to the left. On both sides and in rear were
grouped the hussars, men and horses looming up in spectral shapes. The
raindrops shone like tiny shafts of polished steel in the two cones of
radiance cast by the acetylene lamps.
Dalroy, miraculously become a soldier again, saw instantly that the
troopers were cloaked, and their carbines in the buckets. He waited a
few seconds while "Smithy" and his band crept swiftly along the wall of
the barn. Then, copying to the best of his ability the shrill yell of a
German officer giving a command, he shouted, "Squad--dismount!"
He was obeyed with a clatter of accoutrements. He ran forward. Not
knowing the "system" perfected by the "lucky thirteen," he looked for an
irregular volley at close range, throwing the hussars into inextricable
confusion. But not a rifle was fired until some seconds after he himself
had shot and killed or seriously wounded the chauffeur and the escort.
For all that, thirteen hussars were already out of action. The men who
had crossed Belgium from Mons had learnt to depend on the bayonet, which
never missed, and was silent and efficacious.
The affair seemed to end ere it had well begun. Only two troopers
succeeded in mounting their plunging horses, and they, finding the road
to Oombergen barred, tried to bolt westward, whereupon they were bowled
over like rabbits. Their terrified chargers, after scampering wildly a
few paces, trotted back to the others. Not one of the twenty got away.
Hampered by their heavy cloaks, and taken completely by surprise, the
hussars offered hardly any resistance, but fell cursing and howling. As
for the pair seated in front of the car, they never knew why or how
death came.
"Now, then, Smithy, show a light!" shouted Corporal Bates. "Ah! there
you are, sir! I meant to make sure of _this_ chap. I got him straight
off."
The torch revealed Corporal Franz stretched on his back, and frothing
blood, Bates's bayonet having pierced his lungs. It were better for the
shrewd Berliner if his wits had been duller and his mind cleaner. Not
soldierly zeal but a gross animalism led him in the first instance to
make a really important arrest. His ghoulish intent was requited now in
full measure, and the life wheezed out of him speedily as he lay there
quivering in the gloom and mire of that rain-swept woodland road.
Seldom, even when successfully ambushed, has any small detachment of
troops been destroyed so quickly and thoroughly. This killing was almost
an artistic triumph.
"Fall in!" growled Bates. "Any casualties?"
"If there is, the blighters oughter be court-mawshalled," chirped Smith.
A momentary shuffling of grotesque forms, and a deep voice boomed,
"Half-time score--England twenty, Germany _nil_."
"Left section--look 'em over, and carry any wounded men likely to
live into the barn," said the corporal. "Give 'em first aid an'
water-bottles. Step lively too! Right section--hold the horses."
This leader and his men were as skilled in the business of slaying an
enemy as Robin Hood and his band of poachers in the taking of the king's
venison. Dalroy knew they needed no guidance from him. He opened the
door of the car.
"Irene!" he said.
She was sitting there, a forlorn figure huddled up in a corner. The
windows were closed. Each sheet of glass was so blurred by the swirling
rain that she could not possibly make out the actual cause of the
external hubbub. After the hard schooling of the past month she
realised, of course, that a rescue was being attempted. Naturally, too,
she put it down to the escape of Maertz. Although her heart was
thrumming wildly, her soul on fire with a hope almost dangerous in its
frenzy, she resolved not to stir from her prison until the one man she
longed to see again in this world came to free her.
Yet when she heard his voice the tension snapped so suddenly that there
was peril in the other extreme. She sat so still that Dalroy said a
second time, with a curious sharpness of tone, "Irene!"
"Yes, dear," she contrived to murmur hoarsely.
"It's all over. A squad of British soldiers dropped from the skies.
Every German is laid out, Von Halwig with the rest."
"Von Halwig! Is he dead?"
"Yes."
"I am glad. Arthur, they have not wounded you?"
"Not a scratch."
"And Maertz?"
"We must see to him. Will you come out? Never mind the rain."
"The rain! Ah, dear God, that I should feel the blessed rain beating on
my face once more in liberty!"
She gave him her hand, and they stood for a moment, peering deep into
each other's eyes.
"Arthur," she said, so quietly now that the storm seemed to have passed
from her spirit, "you have work to do. I shall not keep you. Tell me
where to wait, and there you shall find me. But, before you go, promise
me one thing. If we fall again into the hands of the Germans, shoot me
before I become their prisoner."
"No need to talk of that," he soothed her. "We have a splendid escort.
In two hours----"
She caught him by both shoulders.
"You _must_ promise," she cried vehemently.
He was startled by the vibrant passion in her voice. He began then
to understand the real horrors of Irene's vigil, whether in the
rat-infested darkness of the barn or the cushioned luxury of the
limousine.
"Yes," he muttered savagely, "I promise."
Taking her by the arm, he led her to the front of the car, where,
clearly visible herself, she would see little if aught of the shambles
in rear.
Corporal Bates hurried up.
"Her ladyship all right, sir?" he inquired briskly.
"Yes," replied Dalroy, conscious of a slight tremulousness in the arm
he was holding.
Corporal Bates, though in all probability he had never even heard of
Bacon's somewhat trite aphorism, was essentially an "exact" man. He
never erred as to distinctions of rank or title. His salute was the
pride of the Buffs. Blithely regardless of the fact that not more than
five minutes earlier Captain Dalroy had confessed himself ignorant of
Lady Irene Beresford's actual social status, he alluded to her
"correctly."
"I think, sir," he rattled on, "that we ought to be moving. It's quite
dark now, an' we have our route marked out."
"How?"
"We've been directed by a priest, sir. The Belgian priests have done us
a treat. In every village they showed us the safest roads. Even when
they couldn't make us understand their lingo they could always pencil a
map."
"I see. Do you follow the road to Oosterzeele?"
"For about a mile, sir. Then we branch off into a lane leading west to
the river Schelde, which we cross by a ferry. Once past that ferry, an'
there's no more Germans."
"Very well. Have you searched the enemy for papers?"
"Yes, sir. We're stuffed with note-books an' other little souveeners."
"Do your men ride?"
"Some of 'em, sir, but they'll foot it, if you don't mind. They hate
killing horses, so we turn 'em loose generally. This lot should be tied
up."
"What of the car?"
"Smithy will attend to that with a bomb, sir."
Bates evidently knew his business, so evidently that Dalroy did not even
question him as to the true inwardness of Smithy's attentions.
The squad cleared up their tasks with an extraordinary celerity. Smithy
crawled under the automobile with the flashlight, remained there exactly
thirty seconds, and reappeared.
The corporal saluted.
"We're ready now, sir," he said. "Perhaps her ladyship will march with
you behind the centre file?"
"Do you head the column?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, for a little way, we'll accompany you. There were three in our
party, corporal. One, a Belgian named Jan Maertz, risked death to get
away and bring help. I'm afraid he has been captured on the Oosterzeele
road by two hussars detailed for the job. So, you see, I must try and
save him."