THE COUNT'S HOSPITALITY
I have said that my position was in a recess formed between the wall
and the side of the wardrobe. Standing here, I suddenly became aware
of a slight sound quite close to me, so slight that had I not been
listening intently in that perfect stillness my ear would not have
detected it. To determine exactly whence it proceeded puzzled me; any
one who has listened for a sound in intense darkness will understand my
uncertainty. Something was moving--almost at my elbow, it seemed; yet
nothing that I could see or touch. Now again! Louder. Something moving
close beside me. Then suddenly the explanation flashed upon me. The
noise came from the wardrobe. Some one was inside.
Scarcely had I realized this when, even in that darkness, I was aware
of a black object in front of me. Instinctively I raised my revolver;
it knocked slightly against the wardrobe door, which was swinging
slowly back upon me. So it had been unfastened and opened from the
inside. Whoever had opened it was already in the room. I waited a few
seconds, then, with revolver ready in one hand, I began quietly to
push the door to with the other. When it was half-way closed I paused
and listened. Some one was moving about the room in the direction of
the bed. He was going, no doubt, to administer the _coup-de-grâce_,
or to see whether I was already beyond it. In another moment he would
find the bed unoccupied. This certainly called for prompt action on
my part. All the same, action was not easy in that pitchy darkness. I
could scarcely move on account of having to listen constantly for that
stealthy presence. But I guessed the man's first act on discovering I
was not in the bed would be either to strike a light, or to return as
he came to fetch others of the party. In the former case, I resolved
to shoot him on the first spark of light; in the latter, which I hoped
would happen, I intended to account for him in quieter fashion. For my
only chance of accomplishing my ultimate purpose lay in wit, not force.
On the other side of the wardrobe stood a table on which I knew were a
pair of massive silver candlesticks. I felt for one of these, seized
it, took out the candle, and held it ready. For a few moments now I
heard no sound in the room; then I became aware that, as I expected,
the man was coming stealthily back towards the wardrobe. I slipped the
revolver into my pocket, and grasping the heavy candlestick with both
hands raised it above my head. The man came nearer, he was now quite
close; I could hear, could feel, his breath. Then, just at the right
moment, I brought down the weapon with all my force on his head. The
blow, by good luck, fell absolutely true. With an exclamation--half
gasp, half groan--the man collapsed at my feet.
So far good. I listened, but heard no indication that the alarm had
been taken. I dared not strike a light, having regard to the peephole
in the wall. I knelt down and examined, as well as I could by touch,
the prostrate form. He was evidently wearing the same sort of rough
cassock as those worn by the men who had buried the priest in the wood.
With some difficulty I took this from him and put it on myself. The
fellow was breathing stertorously; from the force of my blow there
could be little doubt that his brain had suffered sufficient concussion
to keep him still for some hours to come. So there was nothing to fear
from leaving him as he was.
I now entered the wardrobe and ventured to strike a match. The light
showed me a sliding door formed by one of the panels at the back, which
unnecessary ornamentation was thus accounted for. I passed through
this, and found myself in a narrow passage. Pulling the cowl over my
head, I struck another light in order to see which way to turn. On
the right a flight of wooden steps ran up to the roof. As there was
no door or outlet of any sort up there it was evident that they were
intended solely for the purpose of reaching the spy-hole in the frieze.
I went on, groping my way for a certain distance, then striking a fresh
light to see what was before me. I had two objects now: to discover,
if possible, the prison of Asta von Winterstein, and to make good my
escape from that house of murder--neither of them easy. After moving
cautiously along for a considerable distance I came to a door, at what
was evidently the end of the secret passage. Before this hung the arras
with which the corridor into which it opened was lined. Luckily the
passage, for obvious reasons, was carpeted with some soft material
which deadened the sound of footsteps. From beyond the door came men's
voices. I crept warily forward and peeped through the hangings. Across
the corridor was a room of which the door was ajar and whence came the
voices. A plan of action now occurred to me. Taking the opportunity
when one loud-voiced fellow was speaking, I stole across and hid myself
behind the hangings on the other side. My position now was close to the
door of the room in which the men were; their talk was plainly to be
heard. They were speaking of the dog. The sweetmeat had evidently had
its effect, and they seemed considerably mystified thereby. The Count's
tone (for he was there) was angry and querulous; he was blaming the
other men for carelessness in having left the poison in the animal's
way. This they vehemently denied, and the real solution of the mystery
seemed to occur to none of them. Under less critical conditions I
should have been amused by this confirmation of the Count's true
character when his veneer of hyper-politeness was stripped off. His
present tone was ludicrously in contrast to that which he adopted in
company.
Presently, to end the recrimination, some one suggested that Paulus
was a long time gone. My charming host laughed. "It takes much to kill
an eel and an Englishman." Nevertheless, as the minutes passed without
sign of their comrade's return, they proposed to go in a body to see
what was wrong.
This was what I had calculated upon. They came out of the room, four
or five of them, crossed the corridor and entered the secret passage.
I waited till they should have gone a safe distance, then came out of
my hiding-place, went quickly to the door and fastened it upon them.
Thus I hoped, having the key of the Prior's room in my pocket, that
they were nicely trapped, although, as it would not take them long to
burst open the door I had just secured, it behoved me to lose no time
in setting about what was to be done.
Lighting my candle, I found no difficulty in making my way to the great
staircase, to the head of which, indeed, the corridor ran, and so down
to the hall. The entrance door was barred and locked, but there was
something else for me to think of before escaping; so, protecting the
light with my hand, I hastened on, looking into every room, trying
every door, in my hurried search for Asta von Winterstein's prison. In
vain. Every room I could find was deserted; nor did any show signs of
having been occupied by her. During my search I came across the body
of the great hound, stretched lifeless, or nearly so, on the stone
flagging of an inner hall.
"A lucky thought of mine," I muttered; "that fellow prowling about the
place would have spoiled my game, and probably cost me my life."
As the minutes went on my desperate eagerness to find the prisoner
increased. Rushing hither and thither I plunged into every opening and
passage that presented itself, but seemed now in the great rambling
place to be getting farther away from all sign of human life. Thinking
my search hopeless in that direction I came back to the great hall, and
determined, sheer madness though it seemed, to make a quest upstairs.
The utter foolhardiness of this resolve has since been accounted for in
my mind only by the fact that the excitement of the adventure was now
strong upon me. I felt absolutely in honour bound to attempt the girl's
rescue at all hazards, and by the conviction that I should never have
even such a chance as this again. So I made a dash upstairs.
I had hardly reached the top when I heard a cry, then a crash, followed
by a shout and a sound of hurrying footsteps. I blew out my light.
It was too late now. The men had broken out of the passage and were
scouring the place for me. It was certain death if I did not take what
small chance of escape was left to me. To rescue Asta von Winterstein
that night, even if I had known where to find her, was out of the
question. I set my teeth in grim disappointment and ran down the stairs
again. To escape now by the front entrance was impossible; a flash of
light told me the men were at the head of the stairs. But I had in
my late search found and carefully noted the position of the postern
door. This was led to by a short narrow passage opening out of another
running at right angles across the end of the great hall. For this I
made, finding it again without difficulty.
Here I was obliged to strike a light. It showed me to my dismay that my
escape was cut off, the door was locked and no key to be seen.
I threw down the match and pulled out my revolver. There, with my back
to the door, I could keep the narrow passage perhaps against odds, or
at least make a good fight for my life. Any moment now my pursuers
might come upon me. They seemed to be searching about the hall and the
rooms adjacent to it. My discovery was a mere question of moments. I
braced myself for the encounter and stood in readiness. I should be an
easy target there if the ruffians had fire-arms, but even in that case
I calculated I ought to be able to account for two or three of them
before they could hit me.
At that critical moment, as a faint indication of light told of my
enemies' approach, a noise close by attracted my attention. Some one
was outside the door behind me. Feet could be plainly heard on the
steps; one of the men was evidently coming in. Everything now hung on
moments. If the Count and his men inside the house should come upon me
before the door opened it would mean that I should be attacked from
behind as well, and my desperate chance of escape would be absolutely
gone. The suspense of those few seconds brings a shudder even now in
the writing. To my great relief the key grated in the lock, it turned,
the door opened, and, just as a light flashed into the passage and a
man's shout proclaimed he had discovered me, I sprang from my crouching
attitude behind the door upon the astonished incomer, dealt him a
smashing blow in the face, knocking him backwards down the steps into
the moat, plunged in myself and began to swim my hardest, keeping along
in the dark shadow of the walls.
I did not swim far thus, knowing they would pursue me in the boat,
but after going a short distance, struck across to land. Luckily the
night was dark with a drizzling rain, and it was not until I reached
the bank that a cry told me I was seen. I fully expected a shot, if
not a volley, but none was fired. Next instant I was in the wood and
comparatively safe. I ran through to the boundary wall, climbed it, and
then stayed to listen for sounds of pursuit. None were to be heard.
After a while I ventured to make my way by a circuitous path to the
inn, which I reached without becoming aware of any signs of my late
host or his gang. With some difficulty I succeeded in rousing the
landlord, made an excuse for my late return, threw off my wet clothes,
and tumbled into an honest bed after a very pretty night's adventure.