OPENING THE PRISON DOORS.
When Mr Bradwell started the next morning on his return journey to
the Dardanian port, Mr Hicks accompanied him, not without strong
opposition from Usk and Helene. Dr Gregorescu’s extraordinary change
of front, as exhibited in his interview with the mate, seemed to them
to show that the only thing that needed to be done was to go in a body
and demand and obtain Cyril’s release, but Mr Hicks could not satisfy
himself that the matter was so simple. The utmost he would concede was
that four hours after he had started, they might drive out as far as
the bend of the road where Helene had first lost her way, and wait
there in case he sent back a message by Jakob, whom he would take with
him, and William could ride out with the carriage, as it might be an
advantage to have another man at hand. But when Usk asked scoffingly
what was the object of all these warlike preparations, Mr Hicks
confessed that he didn’t know. It was simply that he couldn’t seem to
see such an elaborate plot peter out without some sort of a surprise
for somebody.
The two Americans and Jakob accomplished their journey to the village
without mishap, although Mr Bradwell, who had seldom ridden any
distance until the day before, was glad to adopt one of the high
native saddles, well padded with sheep-skins, instead of the European
one he had used. Arrived at the village, the horses were left in
Jakob’s care, and Mr Hicks and his friend turned into the rough track
which led to the asylum. This track branched off from the village
street at its upper end, where the road, now fairly in Dardania,
became little better than a bridle-path, and the house stood on an
isolated hill about a mile away. It had been a kind of watch-tower or
rude fort in the Roumi times, but of late years had been enlarged and
adapted to the purposes of an ordinary dwelling by a wealthy merchant
of Paranati, who thought it would prove a pleasant summer retreat. He
had made the winding path leading up the hill passable for the rough
vehicles of the country, even if it could not justly be called a
carriage-road, and he was proceeding to plant the bare hillside and
lay out gardens, when a disastrous speculation plunged him into
poverty, and left the place to its old isolation. It seemed admirably
fitted for Dr Gregorescu’s ostensible purpose. The situation was airy
and commanded splendid views, there was space for moderate exercise
within the outer circle of the old fortifications, and any patient who
succeeded in escaping over the walls would be in view from the gateway
almost as far as the foot of the hill.
Mr Hicks noted the possibilities of the place with a jealous eye as he
and his companion climbed the path. There were one or two points where
it might be possible to effect an entrance, but there was no way of
descending the hill but by this path, which wound in zigzag fashion up
the slope, with a steep cliff above it on one side and below it on the
other. There were turns at which the passenger would be invisible from
the gate for a moment or two, but he could not reach the foot without
coming into view again. If Dr Gregorescu were really willing to
surrender his patient peaceably, it was a most extraordinary piece of
good fortune, but why should he establish himself in a place of such
natural advantages if he had no intention of making use of them?
Mr Hicks was on the look out for suspicious circumstances, and when he
met Dr Gregorescu face to face the interview seemed to justify him in
the belief that the doctor was a party to the whole of the plot. Mr
Bradwell was despatched to view the building with a Greek attendant
who spoke French, and to make arrangements for the reception of the
unfortunate fireman, and Mr Hicks approached delicately the subject of
Prince Shishman Pelenko. When he hinted that the patient thus styled
might in reality be identical with a missing personage of importance
in whose fate he took a deep interest, the doctor rose to the bait
immediately, with every appearance of frankness. His story was that he
had received the charge of the unfortunate man from a lady, whose name
he was not at liberty to mention, but whom Mr Hicks understood at once
to be Mlle. Garanine. This lady explained that while travelling with
her, Prince Shishman had been seized suddenly with the distressing
delusion that his life was perpetually threatened, which was
accompanied by an entire loss of memory, and almost of the sense of
personal identity. There was no reason why Dr Gregorescu should doubt
her statement as to his patient’s name at the time, for when they
arrived at the Pelenko mansion they were expected and welcomed.
Moreover, the day after their arrival Prince Soudaroff called and had
a long interview with the patient, endeavouring in vain to rouse him
to any recollection of his former life. This account differed so
totally from that given to Usk and Helene by Prince Soudaroff himself
of his mission to Drinitza that Mr Hicks wondered for the moment
whether the doctor had really been a dupe throughout, but in an
instant he detected a false note. The evidence of the landlord of the
Drinitza inn showed conclusively that the mysterious visitors had
occupied the Pelenko mansion from the very evening on which Prince
Valerian had left it, and when Cyril had disappeared; and the
neighbourhood had been so strictly watched about the time of Prince
Soudaroff’s visit that the doctor, his patient, and their train of
attendants could not have arrived unnoticed. But since the doctor must
not be allowed to see that he had blundered, Mr Hicks repaid his
confidence by imparting to him, under a pledge of secrecy, the history
of Cyril’s disappearance, and suggested that he should be allowed to
see him without his knowledge. The doctor agreed to this at once,
remarking that he had begun to be doubtful as to the identity of his
patient of late, since Prince Valerian paid no attention whatever to
the detailed reports and other documents he forwarded to him, and no
other member of the family had shown the slightest interest. He took
the visitor up to one of the flat roofs of the building, which
commanded a view of a lower roof. On this lower roof Cyril was sitting
idle, as Helene had seen him in the garden, his hair and moustache
white, his expression perfectly vacant, except when he rolled a
cigarette with great care and neatness. A dreadful misgiving began to
creep into Mr Hicks’s mind.
“If he’s not mad, it’s just about the finest imitation I ever saw,” he
thought, and then suggested to the doctor that they should show
themselves and speak to him.
“Not from this distance,” was the reply, “but I shall be delighted to
take you to him and present you formally. The case is a most
interesting one, and I shall be glad to see whether there is any
return of memory at the sight of you. I suppose you still think this
is the person of whom you are in search?”
The question was asked hastily, as if Dr Gregorescu feared he might
have aroused suspicion by taking for granted that the visitor would
know his patient, and Mr Hicks was also conscious that there might be
danger in a sudden meeting; but he remembered Cyril’s apparent
non-recognition of Helene, and took comfort as he accepted the
doctor’s offer. They passed through various passages, and at last came
out upon the roof where they had seen Cyril. He was sitting in a kind
of stone summer-house, open in front, with a bench running round the
three sides, and a rough wooden table in the middle.
“May I be allowed to present to your Highness Mr Hicks, who is
travelling in this neighbourhood?” said Dr Gregorescu, appearing round
the corner of the summer-house with a suddenness which the visitor
felt sure was intentional.
“How you startle one, Gregorescu!” said Cyril in French, rising and
bowing languidly. “This is not the first time I have had to speak to
you about your roughness. A man in my unfortunate position has at
least the right to expect consideration from his physician. Monsieur,”
he turned to Mr Hicks, “pardon the irritability of my nerves. It is
difficult for the young”--he waved his hand towards the doctor--“to
realise how the knowledge that death may be lurking at any corner
tends to unman one. You are an Englishman, I presume? My good doctor
will be able to air his linguistic attainments. He is a most
accomplished person.”
“No, sir, an American,” said Mr Hicks laconically. “I understood from
you just now that you did not speak English?” he added sharply to Dr
Gregorescu.
“His Highness is too kind. I speak a few words, just enough to make
English people laugh,” was the reply, and another black mark went down
against the doctor in Mr Hicks’s mind.
“Mr Hicks is anxious to take your Highness away with him,” the doctor
went on.
Cyril raised his eyebrows. “It is really very kind of Mr Hicks, but I
don’t quite see why I should go away with him,” he remarked.
“If you remember the conversation we had a day or two ago,
Highness----”
“Ah, I see.” Cyril turned frankly to Mr Hicks. “You must understand,
monsieur, that I make no complaints against Dr Gregorescu, but--and I
say this to his face--I am not altogether satisfied with his
arrangements. I can quite believe that it was advisable to remove from
my brother’s house, since my enemies had tracked me there, and I only
escaped assassination by a secret and hasty departure, but I do not
care for the situation of this place. It is isolated--exposed. I have
the sensation of being set up to be shot at. Moreover, I understand
that the doctor intends to take other patients, which is a very
different thing from being my private physician, as I intended when I
placed myself under his care. Hence I should not refuse to
consider--merely to consider--proposals for a change.”
“Count, you are colossal!” was the exclamation Mr Hicks only just
restrained himself from uttering. He looked inquiringly at the doctor.
“His Highness’s remarks compel me to enter upon a rather awkward
subject,” was the response. “The money entrusted to me for his
Highness’s support by--the lady I mentioned to you, monsieur, is--is
very nearly exhausted, and----”
“And you think his Highness’s friends might prefer to make their own
arrangements in future?” asked Mr Hicks. “Quite so.”
“Oh, monsieur, why should we continue this farce?” cried the doctor
excitedly. “I see you have no doubt that my patient is in reality your
friend, Count Mortimer----”
Cyril bowed smilingly. “You are very kind, to endow me with a new
name,” he said.
“And nothing would please me better than to resign him to your care at
once,” the doctor went on; “but how could I reconcile it with my
conscience? You have no authority--you are not a relation. If he had
even recognised you”--his little black eyes were on Cyril’s face--“but
I cannot surrender him to a stranger.”
“That is so,” agreed Mr Hicks, wondering what this portended.
“If only you could bring his wife here; but you say she is dangerously
ill at Vindobona----”
Mr Hicks saw Cyril start slightly, very slightly, and interposed
hastily. “Not dangerously ill, doctor; you mistook me. In fact, when
she hears I have found her husband, I think she will be well at once.
As you say, the best thing will be to bring her here. But she could
scarcely arrive in less than a week, for she must travel slowly.”
“If his Excellency will continue to put up with our poor quarters here
for that time----”
“By all means,” said Cyril, with a whimsical smile. “But you place me
in a curious position, gentlemen. You propose to bring a charming
lady--of course she is charming--who is good enough to say that she is
my wife, to take care of me. Well and good; the lady and I can but see
one another, and the decision will lie with her, naturally. The state
of affairs is quite interesting.”
“Perhaps,” said Mr Hicks, anxious to disarm any suspicion in the
doctor’s mind, “it might be well for the Queen to remain in this house
for a day or two before taking her husband away. You would then see
whether there was any hope of his recognising her----”
“Or any fear of a recurrence of violence,” said the doctor.
“There is one important point which doesn’t seem to have occurred to
you,” said Cyril, with languid impatience. “My personal safety must be
provided for. Mr dear Mr Hicks, I like your countenance, but you must
understand that I cannot consent to leave a place of comparative
security in order to plunge into constant danger. You and the lady of
whom you speak will be good enough to make adequate arrangements for
protecting me from assassination when I am outside these walls. You
will also, if you please, arrange to defray any sum that may be due to
Dr Gregorescu for his services by that time. His mentioning money
matters was quite unnecessary, but since he is so deeply concerned
about them, pray let him feel himself secure. That is all I have to
say. Please make your own arrangements. I shall be delighted to fall
in with them, if these two points are remembered.” He rolled himself
another cigarette, and leaned back in his seat, tapping with his
fingers on the table as if tired of the subject, while Mr Hicks and
the doctor, the latter looking much subdued, entered into a discussion
as to ways and means. It was while they were trying to arrange how
Queen Ernestine could be accommodated in a house which contained no
female inhabitants, that Mr Hicks was struck by the intentness of
Cyril’s gaze at the doctor.
“What can it mean?” he thought. “And that tapping--how he keeps it up!
It might be Morse--Jehoshaphat! it _is_ Morse. Four dots, two dots,
dash dot dash dot, dash dot dash, three dots--_Hicks_! Hicks! Hicks!
and he’s been doing it five minutes already. I understand you
perfectly,” he said slowly to the doctor. “There is a difficulty.
Perhaps the best plan will be for Lady Usk to drive over here and see
what can be done. A woman’s notions often come in useful for
circumventing a deadlock.”
Dr Gregorescu welcomed the suggestion, and thought that it might be
advisable to hire some furniture, either from Paranati or Novigrad,
with a view to the Queen’s visit. Paranati was nearer, but the absence
of roads made it almost hopeless to send there. Decidedly Novigrad
would be better, but then there was the difficulty of the frontier. Mr
Hicks listened and agreed, while all the time, though his eyes were
fixed on the doctor, he was interpreting the tapping on the table.
“_Hicks, get me out of this to-day, for heaven’s sake! He suspects
something. I shall be mad in real earnest if you leave me here another
week._”
To answer this appeal, Mr Hicks summoned to his aid all the fertility
of invention which had made him famous in three continents. He dared
not respond by tapping on the table, but from where he sat Cyril could
see his knee, while it was hidden from the doctor. Tapping the knee
smartly for a dot, and rubbing his finger along softly for a dash, he
answered according to the code.
“_Be here this afternoon, and when you hear a row down below, watch
out for a stone._” Then he turned to the doctor and summed up. “If I
can get a message to Lady Usk in time, she shall come up this
afternoon, and you will settle with her what arrangements you can
make. The Queen will arrive in a week, possibly sooner, and you will
keep his Excellency under your care until then? My friend and I must
go over to Paranati to bring that poor mad chap, for he ought to be in
your charge as soon as possible, and I may be back here almost as soon
as Lady Usk, but if I haven’t arrived, you will explain things to
her?”
The doctor agreed, and he and Mr Hicks parted with the utmost
cordiality. The patient Mr Bradwell, reduced to utter silence from
having exhausted every possible topic of conversation with his guide,
was rescued from the bench in the porter’s lodge where he was meekly
smoking, and the two men walked down the hill together. No sooner were
they out of earshot of the asylum than Mr Hicks said--
“Now, Eben Bradwell, buck up. You’ve got the very biggest order on
hand to-day that you ever had, and don’t you forget it.”
“I guess this ain’t the first time I’ve shepherded a lunatic gently
into an asylum,” was the reply, in a somewhat injured tone.
“Ebenezer,” said Mr Hicks, “that isn’t a circumstance to what I’m
going to have you do to-day. You’ll just make the journey to Paranati
and back in the quickest time you ever travelled, and you’ll bring
along with you the smartest man on board the Bluebird.”
“If you air alluding to that unfortunate darkey, I guess----”
“I am not alluding to him, but to a smart man that must take his
place. I wouldn’t hand over my worst enemy to that smooth-tongued Dago
back of us, after the time we’re going to give him to-day. No, sir;
what that smart man of yours has to do is to try and give you the slip
right at the foot of the hill here, and after a real hard fight, with
as much yelling and general violence as he can get in for the money,
to lead the chase way back into Dardania. You will have despatched a
messenger as soon as he began to be ugly to entreat the doctor to come
and try his influence on him, see?”
“You want the doctor out of the road for a bit, is that so? Well, sir,
I like the notion, and I know the man that’ll tumble to it. We’ll make
a real handsome nigger out of him.”
“That’s so, but there mustn’t be any waste of time. You’ve just got to
break the record getting to Paranati and back. Pour out the dollars
like water if they’re needed. I’ll have Lady Usk’s Dutchy go with you
to do the talking, for I must stay and fix things up here, but I’ll
meet you in the village, and the patient needn’t begin his star
performances before then.”
“And what about her Majesty’s message that I brought you?”
“I guess her Majesty will just have to wait until this row is hoed. If
she’s so mad that she gets reconciled again, it won’t hurt me, any
way.”
With this reckless defiance of Queen Félicia, Mr Hicks sped the mate
and Jakob on their way, and himself returned along the road to meet
Usk and Helene. He found them waiting faithfully, but fuming, at the
appointed spot, and he unfolded the plan he had elaborated as he rode.
To one point Usk objected strongly.
“I won’t have Helene mixed up in the rescue,” he said. “She can stay
in the village, and we’ll pick her up as we come back.”
“I don’t see but we must have her come with us,” said Mr Hicks
doubtfully, “or we won’t be enough for the business. You, sir, will
have your hands full getting the rope to your uncle and helping him
down it, and Lady Usk will be wanted to hold the doctor in talk, for I
must be way down the hill with Bradwell’s outfit. Then when the doctor
is sent for to help us, you must distract the janitor’s attention
while the Count slips past. If the charms of your conversation will do
it, so much the better, but if not, then the six-shooter I warned you
to bring will come into play. I must have Lady Usk wait with William
and the buggy at the turn of the track out of sight of the gateway,
for there’s no other way of getting the Count down the hill without
being seen. You have the waterproof apron on the buggy, Lady Usk, I
hope? I guess you’ll admire to take your part in saving the Count,
won’t you? Don’t you go and have an upset down the hill; drive gently
till you’re through the village, but then just take it out of the
horses until you’re past the Pannonian frontier-post. I’ve had a word
with the boss there. He can’t do anything to help us, for fear of a
frontier incident, but once you’re safe across he’ll see you’re not
followed.”
“But supposing these Dardanian fellows fire--she may be hit!” cried
Usk.
“Well, sir, there’ll be your uncle and William, who won’t have her get
hurt if they can help it. And as I said, I wouldn’t bring a woman into
this if there was any other way of fixing things, but your wife has
grit, and she’ll take the risk.”
“Oh, Usk, please, _please_!” entreated Helene, squeezing his arm very
hard. “You know it was my fault he wasn’t saved before. If I could
really help to save him this time!”
Usk yielded, with a sufficiently bad grace, and they waited
impatiently until Mr Hicks thought the mate’s party would be on its
way back from Paranati, and then started for the frontier. The
Gendarmerie officer at the Pannonian post came out and wished them
luck as they passed, and they crossed the frontier-line and began to
climb the street of the village, which lay some few hundred yards
beyond it. Several of Helene’s old acquaintances came out to greet
her, and while she talked to them through the imperfect medium of the
customs-officer as interpreter, Mr Hicks and Usk went into the
post-office for a moment. When they emerged, Usk looked noticeably
stouter, a fact attributable to the length of thin, tough rope,
knotted at intervals, which was wound round his body under his coat.
This rope Mr Hicks had obtained in the morning through the postmaster,
and ensuring his secrecy by a judicious gift and the promise of
another, had employed him to make the knots. It would have been wholly
inadequate had the asylum been a modern building, with smooth,
well-finished walls, but the masonry had been rough when it was first
laid, and was now so weather-beaten that a young and active man might
almost have descended it without the aid of a rope at all.
Mr Hicks remained in the village to meet Mr Bradwell, and William,
leaving his horse, took the driver’s seat in the buggy. Usk walked up
the hill by the side of the carriage, and loitered about the gateway,
while Helene, with much outward dignity and inward shrinking, paid her
call upon the doctor. It was almost more than her husband could endure
to let her enter the place by herself. What if she should be kidnapped
too! But she looked round and smiled at him bravely when she went in
at the gate, and after he had fidgeted about for the prescribed three
or four minutes, he began to take an interest in the masonry, and to
cross-question the porter. The man knew nothing of the history of the
place, but he intimated that the noble gentleman was quite at liberty
to walk round the outside, as far as the cliff afforded a foothold,
and see what the rest of the walls were like. Usk waited only until he
was out of sight of the gateway to unwind himself from the rope, and
fasten the end of it round a suitable stone. Then he went on, along a
very narrow ledge, until it ended suddenly, and he caught sight of
Cyril looking over the wall some ten feet farther on. At first his
heart stood still as he realised that he could not get under the wall
at the right spot, but in a moment he saw that this did not really
signify. The ledge was so narrow that it would have been next to
impossible to throw the stone up perpendicularly with any hope of its
lodging on the wall, but from the spot where he stood he could throw
it diagonally with some chance of success. Cyril held up a finger as a
warning to him not to begin yet, and he gathered the rope in his left
hand and waited. Then the sound of a sudden tumult, shouts, yells,
expostulations, and blows, mounted to them from the foot of the hill.
Cyril nodded, and Usk threw the stone. After two or three attempts
which fell short, Cyril caught it, and began to draw up the rope.
In the meantime, William and the gatekeeper were startled by the
appearance of Jakob, who dashed up hatless and dishevelled to entreat
that Dr Gregorescu would come down the hill at once. The lunatic from
the Bluebird had suddenly become violent, and refused to mount the
hill. He was fighting with such strength that Mr Hicks and Mr Bradwell
feared they could not restrain him much longer. It would take at least
six men to carry him up the hill, they thought. The doctor came out
promptly, making final arrangements hastily with Helene as he handed
her into the buggy, then hurried down the hill with three or four of
his Dardanian servants, while William started the horses on the steep
descent with cautious deliberation. At the turn in the track they
paused, William almost as much excited as his mistress, until the
tones of Usk’s voice as he asked the porter whether his wife had
started without waiting for him reached their ears. Almost immediately
there was the sound of hasty footsteps, and Cyril ran down the road.
William had handed the reins to Helene, and was out of the carriage
immediately, lifting the apron on the farther side, and in a moment
Cyril was crouching in the vacant space and hidden under the apron.
“William, put up the hood, please,” said Helene, in a quick hard
voice, and the servant, alarmed by her tone, turned to see Dr
Gregorescu hurrying breathlessly round the turn in front of them. He
might have no suspicion at present, but he could not but be surprised
to see the carriage stopping and William standing in the road.
Helene’s presence of mind saved the situation, and William obeyed at
once.
“Surely you must find this place very windy?” said Helene, as the
doctor passed them. “I feel quite cold. Will you kindly tell my
husband that I have driven on, if you meet him? But don’t let me keep
you. William, you had better lead the horses down the hill.”
“A thousand pardons!” ejaculated Dr Gregorescu. “I cannot stay,
madame, for the poor fellow from the ship has escaped. We must
organise a search at once. Pray excuse me.”
A gracious bow from Helene, and she drove on, her face so white and
her hands so powerless that William, at the horses’ heads, feared the
reins would be torn from her grasp. At the next turning he stopped.
“Excuse me, my lady, but if his lordship would change hats and coats
with me, he might sit up aside of you and drive, and no one the wiser,
without they looked close under the ’ood, if you’ll forgive me
offerin’ advice.”
“Excellent advice too, William,” came in Cyril’s voice, muffled by the
apron, “but what will you do?”
“I’ll go off in your things, my lord, as if I was tryin’ to get to the
frontier post by a short cut, without passin’ through the village, and
lead ’em a rare dance. If they come up with me, I have my fistes.”
As he spoke, William was divesting himself of his livery coat and
cockaded hat, and replacing them with the soft felt hat and light
overcoat Cyril handed to him. Cyril made the change almost as quickly,
and stepped in front of Helene to the driver’s seat. She gave up the
reins without a word, for she was incapable of speech, and they were
just starting when Usk rushed headlong down the hill behind them.
“What’s all this? Oh, good! Drive for your life, Uncle Cyril.
Gregorescu’s found out! Now, William, let’s put them off the scent!”
and Usk and the disguised William plunged into the wilderness of rocks
and low bushes beside the track, where the carriage could not pass, as
if intending to cut off the angle formed by the turns of the road.
“Don’t be frightened, Helene, but hold tight!” said Cyril, with a
smile at his companion, as he kept a firm hand on the reins.
“Oh, I don’t mind. Go fast--oh, do go fast!” she cried, finding her
voice.
“Not until we are down this hill,” he answered, but when they came to
the short stretch of level road leading to the village, the buggy
seemed to fly along. When they reached the corner, and turned down
into the village street, Helene screamed.
“Oh, they are taking the short cut too! They mean to catch us up
before we can reach the frontier-line.”
“Never mind. They’re only after Usk and William, who don’t mean to be
caught. They won’t lead them across our track, you may be sure.”
“No, no!” cried Helene, in agony. “I caught sight of Usk just for a
moment, and they must have seen him too, but they are not following.
They are coming straight across.”
“Well, they are after William, then,” said Cyril shortly. “Keep quiet,
Lenchen, and don’t frighten the horses.”
He was driving very carefully down the steep street, which in some
places was almost as rough as a flight of steps, and the horses were
picking their way with the greatest daintiness. Suddenly Helene
screamed again.
“Oh, I saw them--between the houses! They will be there before us! Oh,
do drive faster!”
Standing up with one hand on the rail, she snatched the whip from
Cyril, and struck the horses wildly several times. They swerved across
the road, and Cyril was almost dragged from his seat.
“Sit down, Lenchen!” he said angrily. “Do you want us both to be
killed?”
He recovered the whip, but there was no holding the horses now. The
buggy clattered down the stony street, dispersing pigs and fowls and
goats as it came. Horrified mothers caught up their children from
before the very feet of the horses, and village elders, leaning
against their houses for a talk, drew back out of the road with an
injured air as the wheels crashed close by their toes. By some
miracle, as it seemed, the horses kept their feet, and the buggy was
not overturned, and when the foot of the hill was in sight, Cyril drew
a deep breath, and said to Helene--
“It’s no use trying to pull up here. I’m going to rush them. Crouch.
Get under the apron if you can.”
Glancing ahead, Helene saw that the Dardanians were straining every
nerve to reach the road and intercept them as soon as they were upon
the level. She slipped down under the apron as far as she could, and
Cyril urged the horses on. Only two men leaped into the road in time
to stand and meet them, and though both shouted that they would fire,
they were too much shaken by their run to take accurate aim. One
sprang aside, and struck a futile blow at Cyril with the butt-end of
his gun; the other was knocked down, and the horses, terrified by the
discharge of his rifle as he fell, and by the shouts which arose from
behind them, dashed on faster than ever. Two or three bullets struck
the hood of the buggy harmlessly.
“Not much farther now, Lenchen,” said Cyril. “Get back to your seat,
at once, and if I say ‘Jump!’ do it immediately, do you hear?”
Why should she jump? What could he see that made him think such a
thing might be necessary? Helene cowered on the seat beside him with
parted lips and staring eyes. Suddenly she saw what it was. A
Dardanian sprang from some bushes on the right of the road, and
standing in front of the horses, waved his arms and shouted. They
swerved aside, but Cyril brought them round again, and as the man
tried to leap up on the step of the carriage as it passed him, struck
at him with the whip. He fell back, but at the same moment a fusilade
broke out from the bushes, and terrified the horses beyond control.
The high pole which marked the frontier, bearing on this side the
emblems of Dardania, on the other those of Pannonia, was only a little
way in front, and just beyond it were the gendarmes and their officer,
drawn up in line, with their rifles ready. Cyril made a last effort to
direct the horses into the lane kept open for them between the two
ranks of men, but they dashed violently to the left, where the ground
sank into a kind of wooden glen.
“Jump, Lenchen, jump!” cried Cyril, but Helene was too much frightened
to obey. She was conscious of a violent jolt, a crackling of branches,
the sensation of falling. There were shouts and cries, then a great
silence.