THE ATTACK
I rushed with Strode to the doorway, and for a moment could discern
nothing in the intense darkness. But just as I was beginning to hope
it might be a false alarm a flash of lightning showed me a man on
horseback in the road some twenty yards away. It was hardly probable
that he saw us in the same instant; anyhow, we could hear no voice
above the raging of the storm. Without another moment's delay we set
ourselves to close the door, which hung to its post by a single hinge.
"Stay, for Heaven's sake!" Strode cried suddenly. "The pistols and
cartridges are in the carriage. Without them we are dead men."
In another instant he had forced the door a little way open again and
dashed out. It was an anxious twenty seconds for me, but in that time
he was back with our second revolvers and the ammunition bags.
"Now," he said, "take the Fräulein upstairs while I barricade this as
well as I can."
She had heard him, and, as I turned, was already climbing the crazy
steps that led to the upper floor.
"It is terrible," she said, trying, as I could see, to master her
agitation, "if all you have done for me is to end in failure."
"Let us hope not," I replied. "Strode may be mistaken. It is hardly
conceivable----"
My words were cut short by a shout and a loud beating on the door. I
ran to the window of the front upper room and looked down. The storm
was now gradually passing away; the intense darkness was relieved
sufficiently for me to be able to make out the forms of several men
standing before the house. That they were Count Furello and his
followers there could be now little doubt. How they had tracked and
overtaken us so quickly was surprising; but there they were, and we
could only be thankful that an accident had given us a shelter in which
to stand at bay. Had we remained in the carriage a few minutes longer
they would have surrounded us and we should not have had a chance.
As I drew back from the window I heard the Count's voice cry:
"Come out, you foul Englishman, before I fetch and hang you."
This pleasant invitation had scarcely left his lips when a shot rang
out followed by a cry. In the hope that the leader of the gang had been
accounted for, I sprang to the window only to hear to my disappointment
the same hateful voice giving order to his men to fall back.
"Settled one of them, Tyrrell!" Strode called up to me. "We'll have
some rare sport here."
I was glad to think our enemies were one the fewer, and I sent a
chance shot on my own account after them to hasten their retreat to a
respectful distance.
But I could not remain there leaving Strode the impossible task of
defending all the weak spots in the lower floor.
"You will not be afraid to stay in this room alone, Fräulein," I
said, with probably more confidence than I felt. "I must back up
Strode downstairs. Between us there is little doubt we can keep these
ruffians out and drive them off, but Strode cannot do it alone. You
will trust us and not fear?"
She shook her head with a little shudder. I had, in the stress of the
moment, laid my hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, before I could turn to
leave her she flung her arms impulsively round my neck and kissed me
twice. "Darling! my own darling!" she cried, her voice trembling with
excitement and fear. "If you are to die for me you shall know that I am
grateful, that I love you."
Her cheek was pressed to mine. I whispered back my love in her ear, the
love I had known, but had not dared to show. Strode called me.
"I must go now," I said. "If I am to die I have lived my life in this
minute."
We kissed again, as though it were the last kiss on earth, and I ran
down to Strode, my head whirling with joy. Perhaps to him, who had
rather anticipated the situation, my delay in coming to his call was
not surprising.
"If you don't look alive," he said reproachfully, "we shall be taken
and strung up, or whatever your friends' favourite method may be of
getting rid of people who annoy them. I dropped one of the brutes and
they have drawn off in consequence. Their obvious line now is to attack
us on two or more sides, flank and rear; our game is to pick them off
one by one till they are not more than two to one. I am only praying
for the chance of a pot-shot at that scoundrelly Count."
All the time he was muttering thus to me we were busily examining
the ground floor of the cottage and noting its vulnerable points.
Luckily the place was small and plainly built. A narrow passage ran
from the front door to the back, having on its one side simply the
outer wall and the staircase, on the other the two lower rooms. As
luck would have it, the rusty key was in the door of the front room.
This with some little difficulty we were able to lock on the outside;
consequently all fear of an entry through the front window was
obviated. We had now simply to guard the two entrances and the window
of the back room.
So we stood, back to back, a revolver in each hand, grimly waiting the
enemy's next move. There was little doubt that an attempt would be made
at the back this time. We could not be certain how many men were with
the Count; the danger was that a combined rush might be made and a
simultaneous entry effected through door and window. From our stand in
the doorway of the room we should probably account for at least two of
our assailants, but after that numbers would tell at close quarters and
our chance would not be worth much.
Realizing this, I made a whispered suggestion to Strode that we should
abandon our present position and hold the staircase against them.
"No," he answered, "we must keep them out as long as we can. We might
hold the upper floor for a week, but once let these devils get into the
place and the odds would be on their setting fire to it. They can't do
that from outside, thanks to the rain."
I saw at once the likelihood of that danger, and what an excellent
stroke it would be to end Furello's difficulty. Presently Strode
touched me, and I turned, on the alert.
He only nodded towards the window. Something was moving; we could only
guess what. Strode covered it with his revolver and waited. Then he
fired. His shot seemed to be the signal for a regular volley which was
poured into the room, but without touching us in our cover. "Look out!"
Strode whispered. "They are bound to come now. Keep the passage!"
Sure enough, as the words were spoken there was a rush from both window
and door. We blazed away, each with both weapons, right and left, since
anything like deliberate aim was impossible. Our fire was returned;
then our assailants seemed to fall back, but we could tell nothing
clearly. In the midst of my excitement I heard Strode ask:
"Are you hit?"
"No," I replied.
"I am," he said, "but it is not much. We can't hold this; the fun's all
right but too risky for the girl. We must take to the upper regions and
chance it."
He was slipping in fresh cartridges as he spoke. "Now," he said, "bang
away, and make a rush for it. Once up the stairs we are safe."
Through the hanging smoke in the passage nothing could be seen. I sent
a shot through it and made a spring for the stairs. Strode was on my
heels; our fire was not returned, and we gained comparative safety. As
we reached the landing we saw Asta rush back to the room in terror,
locking the door.
"It is all right, Fräulein," I cried. "We are both safe so far."
At my voice the door was unfastened, and my love stood before me.
"Thank Heaven!" she said. "I have been nearly mad with fear. I felt
sure all must be over with you both. It is terrible that you should go
through all this for me."
"Asta!" I whispered reproachfully. "It is only for you we fear,
dearest."
Strode had evidently heard her. "We like it," he observed with a
pre-occupied cheeriness, for he was hanging over the rails of the
staircase keeping a sharp look-out. "It suits me exactly. If only we
could get you, Fräulein, away snugly, it might go on till this time
to-morrow, eh, Tyrrell?"
I went to him. "Your wound, Strode?"
"Hush, don't bother about it," he answered. "It is only a graze on the
shoulder. Now, what are these devils about?" he muttered, "I can't see
them, can you?"
Neither could I, so I went back to reconnoitre from the windows. At the
back of the house, in what had been once the garden, a movement was
perceptible. Men were stirring, but so cautiously that nothing more was
to be made out. I told Strode of this, and he suggested my sending a
shot or two at them.
"It can't do any harm, with our stock of cartridges, and you might
bring one of the brutes down, the Count for choice, if that isn't too
much to hope for."
I returned to the window and promptly acted on this advice. My second
shot I had reason to think took effect, for something like a smothered
cry reached my ears. Then the Count's voice gave an order, upon which,
so far as I could see, four men made a stealthy rush towards the house.
"Look out!" I called to Strode. "They are upon us!"
He sprang back to the top of the stairs as I joined him. For some
seconds we heard nothing; then a slight noise, a foot accidentally
striking against some object, gave warning that the enemy was near.
Strode waited a little, then cautiously leaned forward and sent down a
shot. It was returned.
"Blaze away, man! They are on the stairs," he cried; and we did blaze
away into the unseen.
A dead silence followed. Peering round into the darkness we waited for
the next move. Then we heard men stirring beneath. The slight noise of
stealthy movement went on for some time; occasionally we could detect a
whisper, that was all. Suddenly there came a glimmer of light, but it
showed us nothing. Instead of dying away as I expected, it increased,
and then we knew what we feared was about to happen.
"Are they firing the place?"
A crackle of burning wood gave the answer; the light increased and
spread. The danger now was critical.
"We can't stand this," I said. "The old place will burn like matchwood.
We must make a rush for it."
Strode muttered something between his teeth--a not very flattering
comment on Count Furello and his methods.
"If we hadn't to think of her," he said, jerking his head towards the
room with the closed door, "we could sally out and meet these beasts,
taking our chance. But with her we can't. Stay here, while I go and see
what I can do. Nonsense! I'm the man to take the risk, not you." For I
had begun to hold him back and demur.
He threw me off and crept down the stairs. He stayed looking over the
rail for a while, then came back to me.
"I think," he said, "with fair luck I can put the fire out. There's not
much alight, and our friends seem to have drawn off to see the fun. One
chap is lying dead down there, so what with the others we've peppered
there can't be many left. Anyway, if I come across them there will be
at least one fewer, if next moment is my last. I'm no good, so don't
bother about me. Think of the girl; it is our duty to get her out of
this at any cost."
So saying, he stole down again. At the bottom of the staircase he
stayed a moment, then, darting forward, disappeared from my sight. Next
I heard a banging, as though he were trying to beat out the flames;
then two pistol shots in rapid succession, followed by a laugh of
exultation from Strode. Doubtful whether this should betoken good luck
or bad, I called down to know if he was all right.
"Very much all right!" was the cheering answer. "I guess we're safe
now."
On that I ventured to leave my post, and ran down to him. He was
kicking and stamping out the remains of the nearly extinguished fire.
The old wood-work had been set alight in several places, and the door
was half consumed.
"I don't fancy the Herr Graf will trouble us much more to-night," he
laughed. "Pity I missed him, though. Anyhow I put a bullet through some
tender part of that other scoundrel's anatomy, if howling goes for
anything. I say! Our pot-shots have gone home much better than we could
have hoped. Strikes me we've tucked up most of them."
"Our luck----" I began, when, crack! a bullet whistled between us and
went through the partition wall with a sharp plug.
"Whew! That was handy!" Strode laughed, as by a common impulse we
dropped on our hands and knees below the line of fire. "Look to the
passage," he whispered; "don't let them cut us off."
I crept to the door and sent a couple of haphazard shots out into the
night. Strode crawled to the window and fired. Then, detecting no
sign of the enemy, it occurred to me that I ought to keep an eye on
the floor above. Scarcely had the thought passed through my mind when
I heard a cry, the door of the upstairs room flung open, and Asta
calling me. I rushed up, meeting her on the stairs, and on into the
room.
"They are climbing to the window," she said, as I passed.
The room was empty. I ran to the window and looked out. No one was
to be seen; it was now pitch dark again. In the pauses of the wind I
fancied I could hear a movement in the shrubs between the house and
the road. I did not hesitate to send a shot in that direction. As
the report died away, a laugh followed and a voice called out with
startling unexpectedness.
"Well aimed, Herr Engländer!"
It was Furello. I made no reply, but waited. Then out of the darkness
came the vile voice again.
"Herr Tyrrell! Herr Tyrrell!" it cried.
"Good-evening, Count!" I replied mockingly.
"Good-night, Herr Tyrrell," he returned. "My compliments. You are a
clever fellow, for an Englishman. But you will need to be much cleverer
when next we meet. So look to yourself and make the most of the few
hours of life we leave you. _Auf Wiedersehen!_"
The metallic voice had rung out so that not a word escaped me. Then the
wind dying fitfully away let me hear the sound of retreating hoofs, and
I knew that for the time we were safe. I turned to find Asta standing
behind me.
"Victory! The attack is repulsed and the siege raised," I cried
exultingly.
Her animated face showed that she had caught something of my confident
spirit. But now that the immediate danger was past she was more
reserved, and my respect bade me be content with simply the token of
love and gratitude that her eyes gave me. It was not for me to profit
by a moment of exaltation, when life and death trembling in the
balance had hurried an avowal to lips which a few seconds might have
closed for ever.
I half expected to see that Strode had followed me; as he did not
appear I shouted to him, but to my surprise got no answer. In alarm I
ran down, to find him stretched insensible on the floor where I had
left him.