WHICH PROVES THAT TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE
I don't think she fainted. It was just that her forces had failed her.
She lay quite motionless in my arms, her red-brown hair a splash of
colour against the white sleeve of my coat. But a few yards, as I have
said, separated us from the shelf, so I lifted her up. I felt a soft
arm steal round my neck as she steadied herself. I glanced at her
face. Her eyes were open.
"Hold tight," I bade her, "and whatever you do don't look down!"--for
at that height the clear drop down the side of the cliff was enough to
make an Alpine guide dizzy. Looking steadfastly ahead and fighting
down a horrible feeling of giddiness I carried the girl up the path and
at length stood upon the ledge.
It curved round the face of the rock, a mere shelf not more than two
paces wide but slanting inwards, which improved one's foothold. From
it the face of the cliff dropped sheerly to the nullah hundreds of feet
below. I ventured a peep over the side and my brain fairly swam; for I
am no hand at heights. From somewhere above us a great bird suddenly
went up with a vast flutter and, with a few strokes of its powerful
wings, propelled itself through the air until level with us it hovered
motionless at an immense height above the stony valley.
"I'm going to set you down now," I said to the girl. "Lie quite still
and don't move until I come back. I'm going along the ledge a bit to
see if it broadens out at all or if there's a cave."
As gently as I could I put her down. The wind blew invigoratingly on
the pinnacle of the crag and I hoped it would revive her. I stood and
listened. No sound came from below. But I knew that until I found a
spot from which we could survey the ascent we should not be safe.
I edged my way along the shelf as it curved round the rock. A few
steps brought me in sight of its termination. It ended in nothing; but
what caught my eyes was the tall pillar chiselled out of the rock upon
which the flash from my mirror had rested. Beside it was a low opening
in the back wall of the cliff.
The pillar was merely a high expanse of "dressed" stone, as the masons
say, which had been carved out of the soft surface of the peak. From
pictures I had seen of the images on Easter Island I knew it to be the
first state of one of those uncouth effigies, relics of a departed era,
which are found in more than one island of the Southern Seas. The
pillar was not inscribed or carved in any way. It stood just as some
native mason had left it waiting for the sculptor's hand.
A touch on my shoulder; Marjorie stood at my side.
"I'm a poor kind of soldier, partner," she said, "to fail you at the
critical moment. I was at the last gasp when you picked me up. How
ever did you manage to bring me up here?"
"Don't ask me," I laughed. "I was terrified for fear you'd look over
and get scared...."
"I don't mind heights," the girl rejoined simply, "we live a great part
of the year in our place in Wales, you know, and I've done quite a lot
of climbing in my time. Oh! Look! Did you ever see anything so
wonderful?"
We were side by side on the ledge with our backs to the pillar and as
she spoke she stretched forth her hand and pointed across the valley.
Above the jagged crests of various isolated peaks in the foreground a
gigantic solitary image raised its tall black form against the deep
azure of the ocean which was spread out to the horizon. Its back set
to the sea, its features, stern and enigmatic in expression, turned
towards us, and clearly visible in that transparent atmosphere, it
dominated the little rocky plateau on which it stood, dwarfing the
tremendous blocks of stone strewn about its base. Before it, as if
from a sacrificial altar, a thin spiral of black smoke slowly mounted
aloft against the blue sky. It seemed to rise from the ground at the
foot of the effigy.
It was, in truth, a wonderful sight, a spectacle of sheer majesty.
That lonely Colossus with its cruel face seemed to embody the
suggestion of sinister mystery which, I had felt from the first,
brooded over Cock Island....
Marjorie gave a little shudder.
"This island frightens me!" she said. "To think of that awful-looking
image standing there gazing out across the valley for all these
hundreds of years as if it were waiting for something. Somehow it
reminds me of that club-footed man, so hard, so ruthless, so....
_patient_! Grundt makes my blood run cold!...."
He had not molested her, it appeared. When I had left her to enter our
cave on the beach, men had suddenly surrounded her and carried her away
to the sheds. There she had been handed to the custody of the mulatto
who had locked her in the room behind the galley where I had found her.
"At meal-times," she added, "they brought me out to their open-air mess
in the space between the huts. No one spoke to me. But they eyed me
silently, especially Dr. Grundt. He always seems to be thinking, that
man, and I'm sure his thoughts are wicked. And the man they call Black
Pablo! He kept edging towards me and leering with his one eye. Oh!
It was horrible...." She had seen nothing of Custrin since her
encounter with him in the forest.
Clubfoot, she told me, had had some trouble with his men. They were
grumbling at him for having let me go. The Germans, especially the
blonde young officer, were particularly bitter. But Clubfoot had
rounded on them and said that, as long as there were trees on the
island to hang mutineers on, he would have no questioning of his
authority.
Somewhere in the green tangle of woods far below us a single shot rang
out sharply. The report went reverberating down the valley and from
the tree-tops a cloud of birds swooped up affrighted. I did not hear
the flight of the bullet so I could not see that the shot was meant for
us. Yet there were only Clubfoot's men on the island now. Was Grundt
asserting his authority?
The girl had dropped to her knees, and now seated herself cross-legged
on the ground.
"If you and I are partners," said she, "don't you think the time has
come to take me into your confidence?"
She invited me with a gesture to seat myself by her side. I glanced
down at the valley. Below us and to the left the ascending path twice
wound into view. From our coign of vantage one might infallibly pick
off anyone who tried to push our position from the path. Though I was
inclined to think that the gang had had their fill of fighting for the
day, I was glad to be in a position from which their next move must be
unerringly revealed to me.
I followed the girl's invitation; for I was very weary. To tell the
truth, I welcomed the chance of resting quietly for a spell. I needed
to think out the grave difficulties besetting us. It was clear that we
could not stay where we were, for I had only five rounds of ammunition
left. And Marjorie, who sat by my side, her rich brown hair blowing
out in the wind, her eyes fixed dreamily on the hideous image staring
sardonically across the valley at us; I had to think of her.
Henceforth, any risk I took must inevitably imperil her safety.... it
was a horrid thought.
When would the _Naomi_ come back? And could we risk holding out till
the promised gun announced her return? She could not arrive at the
earliest before the evening, I calculated.
I brought out the meat and bread I had taken from the galley and we ate
it together, side by side. Although the sun had not long risen, there
was already a heat in its rays which warned me of what its noon-day
fierceness would be. And I was keenly alive to the fact that we had no
water.
"I can see by your face," said Marjorie suddenly, "that you are
worrying about me. And I want to be a help, not an impediment. I made
you an offer of partnership once before!"
"I know," I rejoined, "but I didn't know you then...."
"I was so anxious to help," she said. "And you would tell me nothing!"
"I'm afraid I don't know much about women," I said.
"Major Okewood," exclaimed the girl, turning round and looking me full
in the face, "you surprise me!"
"It's true...." I began.
But Marjorie laughed merrily.
"You're too delightful for words," she said. "Why, my dear man, if you
understood women you'd have...."
She broke off hastily and added:
"There are only two kinds of men: those who say they do understand
women and don't and those who admit they don't and don't. But all the
same don't you think it's rather insulting to one's intelligence to
find a man locking up his secrets in his heart simply because he's read
or heard somewhere that a woman is not to be trusted?"
I looked at her with interest. This young girl, with her ridiculous
clump of reddish brown hair, her slim straight limbs, her calm
child-like eyes, made me feel like a naughty little boy being
reprimanded by his mummy.
"Yes," I said limply. "I suppose it is!"
For a minute her eyes encountered mine, and in them I read her
reproach. She dropped them almost at once and a sort of embarrassment
silenced us. Then it suddenly occurred to me that she and I were
alone; I wondered to find that neither the prospect of spending the
night, maybe several nights, in the company of a man of whom she knew
next to nothing, nor the danger to which she was exposed, had shaken
her out of her serenity. This girl was full of character. My wish,
that poor man's wish which I had hardly dared to admit to myself on
board the _Naomi_, rose to my mind with such force that I felt the
blood mount to my face.
But Marjorie took my hand and patted it as she might have patted a
child's.
"Tell me about your mission!" she said.
I kept her hand and seated at her side in the shade of that ancient
pillar, with the fresh breeze caressing our faces, I told her how Fate
had put into my hands the message left by Ulrich von Hagel for Clubfoot
and his gang. I described to her my efforts to unravel the cipher
which I repeated to her.
"How does it go in German?" she asked; for I had given her the English
version.
"You know German?" said I.
She nodded.
"I used to have a German Fräulein," she answered. "She was a dear old
thing and as a small girl I often went over to Boppard to stay with her
people. I knew German rather well."
"Well," said I, "here goes!"
And I repeated the rhyme which had hammered its jingling measure into
my brain:
"Flimmer', flimmer' viel
"Die Garnison von Kiel
"Mit Kompass dann am besten
"Denk' an den Ordensfesten
"Am Zuckerhut vorbei
"Siehst Du die Lorelei...."
I broke off suddenly.
"By Jove!" I exclaimed. "By--Jove!"
I have spoken of the peaks which stood up in the valley between us and
the stone image. The words of von Hagel's doggerel sent my gaze roving
interrogatively across the open space and presently it fell upon a tall
slender rock with a smoothly rounded crest which raised itself erect in
the foreground. And it dawned upon me that there was The Sugar Loaf of
which von Hagel spoke.
I glanced across the valley from right to left, past the image frowning
through the wisp of smoke at its foot, to where other peaks raised
their crests aloft to the blue sky.
Suddenly I turned to Marjorie.
"If you've been to Boppard," I said, "you must know the Lorelei. Look
where I am pointing and tell me if you see any rock which resembles it!"
Leaning over until her hair brushed my cheek the girl followed my
pointing finger.
"Why, yes!" she exclaimed, "that square grey rock leaning over is
rather like the Lorelei...."
At last I felt that I was within measurable distance of the end of my
quest. But between me and my goal was interposed that unsurmountable
four-barred obstacle, those enigmatical notes of music.
I had identified the peaks, but what did they signify? What bearing
had they on the hiding place of the treasure? I felt utterly
nonplussed and, for the first time, discouraged.
"What does it mean?" asked Marjorie at my elbow. "What has the Lorelei
to do with the treasure?"
I laughed rather bitterly.
"If I were a musician," I answered, "I should probably be able to tell
you. As I am not...."
"Please don't be mysterious," the girl bade me. "Tell me what you
mean."
I told her of the four bars of music.
"They're part of some German tune or other," I told her. "It's vaguely
familiar to me, but I'm blessed if I can put any words to it. And I
take it that the words are the thing!"
"Can you hum the melody over to me?" asked Marjorie.
Singing is not my forte. A combination of bashfulness and a
cigarette-smoker's throat produce from my larynx when I attempt to sing
sounds which I have always felt must be acutely distressing to my
hearers. But Marjorie listening gravely with her head on one side,
made me repeat my performance.
Then she said:
"But do you know you're trying to sing a song that was all the rage in
Germany when I was there just before the war. Listen! I'll sing it to
you!"
And in a clear young voice she sang:
"Püppchen, Du bist mein Augenstern
"Püppchen, hab' Dich zum Essen gern."
Then she checked herself suddenly and clutched my arm. "'Püppchen!'"
she said. "Oh, partner, don't you see?"
"No!" I replied dejectedly. "I confess I don't! I know that
'püppchen' means a 'doll' or a 'little doll' but I really don't see...."
Marjorie raised her hand and pointed a slender finger at the saturnine
image on the opposite side of the valley, seen between the Lorelei on
the left and the Sugar Loaf on the right.
"There's your doll!" she said.
And I knew at last that the riddle was read.