FROM PERIL TO PERIL
Gassen was a very heavily built man as well as much more muscular than
I; and I should not have had one chance in ten against him in a
struggle, even had the conditions been equal.
But they were anything but equal. I had allowed myself to be caught at
such a disadvantage that the fight was as good as finished even before
it had begun. At the mere force of his rush upon me I went down like a
throttled puppy, choking vainly for breath as his fingers played a
lively tune on my windpipe.
I knew that he meant to have my life; and I have never been so near
death as when I lay staring helplessly up into his eyes, ablaze with the
joy of victory and drunk with the lust for vengeance.
My first effort was a desperate attempt to drag his hands from my
throat; but although I put out all my strength and squirmed and wriggled
and twisted to elude his grip, I could do nothing. His arms were twice
as thick as mine and quite as hard; and to stop the twistings of my body
he knelt on me, pressing his knees into my ribs and stomach until I
thought the bones would crack.
I made frantic struggles for breath under the grim iron ruthless grip of
his steely hands; and as I felt the blood congesting in my brain and the
deadening sense of suffocation growing, I abandoned all hope and had no
longer power to offer resistance.
But even at that instant the luck turned. I was throwing out my hands
wildly in vague convulsive movements when my left hand struck against my
revolver.
On the instant hope and the love of life revived.
To distract his attention I recommenced to struggle, using my right hand
only; and just as he was lifting me up to dash my head against the
ground and finish the thing, I fired and shot him in the head.
Death was instantaneous, I think. His grip relaxed and he was falling
forward on top of me when I had just sufficient strength left to push
him to one side.
I lay still for some moments, incapable of movement, while the effects
of the struggle and my terrible fight for breath continued. And at
length I sat up, dazed, dizzy and bewildered, until the instinct of
self-preservation roused me to effort.
I scrambled to my feet and stood, staggering and shaking like a drunken
man, as I looked down at the still body and wondered in a vague dreamy
way what I had better do with it. I was in very truth drunk with the
peril through which I had passed and with the relief of my unexpected
escape from death.
Then I remembered the men in the room above and wondered if they had
heard the shot fired, and what they would do in consequence. I had
still the work to do which had brought me to the place. For Althea's
sake I must go through with it; and the thought of her put fresh
strength into me.
My antagonist was lying close to the edge of the water; and this started
an idea. I staggered along to the end of the landing stage, unfastened
the boat, and dragged it close to where he lay. Then, having taken the
precaution to exchange revolvers, that he might appear to have killed
himself, I bundled him into the boat, and thrust it out for the stream
to carry him where it would.
All the time I had been wondering dimly why the men above had not come
out to learn the reason of the shot; and now I began to wish they would
come. I was recovering mastery of both wits and muscles; and perceived
that if they would but help me by coming down, I could easily drive them
into the river at the point of the revolver, to swim for their lives.
In this hope I waited for what seemed a long time. But either they had
not heard the shot or were afraid to venture down.
When they did not come, there was nothing for it but for me to go up
again to them. Now that the one desperate man, Gassen, was dead, I
feared them no longer. The one man's persistent urging of caution and
the other's fear of Gassen led me to believe that they were of the order
of men who can plan trouble for others to do but don't care to take a
hand in carrying it out.
As they would probably conclude that any noise I made was caused by
Gassen returning there was no need for any particular caution; so I ran
up the stairs and crossed to the room with a firm tread.
"Was that a shot just now, Gassen?" asked the elder man. "You weren't
fool enough to fire at this time of night outside?"
He had barely finished the question when I entered the room, bringing
them both to their feet with a cry of surprise.
"Who's Gassen?" I asked. "And where's the Baron von Ringheim?"
"It's the Englishman!" This was from the man of few words; and he
clapped his hand to his pocket, so I covered him.
"You can take it out and lay it on the table there," I said sternly.
He fumbled at his pocket in hesitation; but a slight movement of my
weapon decided him, and he laid a revolver on the table, which I
pocketed.
"Put your hands up, you," I said to the other. He was a man of some
fifty years of age and stood staring aghast at me. But he put his hands
up and I ran through his pockets to make sure he was not also armed. He
was not.
"Now we can talk with less strain. You sent for me to come here to help
the Baron. I'm here to do it."
Both were still all but speechless with amazement. "What do you mean?"
faltered at length the elder man.
"Wasn't it you who sent for me?"
He fell back into his chair and stared at me in silence, passing his
hand across his brow distractedly.
"You'd better begin to think a bit. If you didn't send for me I shall
come to the conclusion that you meant to harm him; and in that case we
shall quarrel."
"Yes--yes. I did send for you," he answered hesitatingly. "We have
managed to save him from the anger of some of those who meant to harm
him."
"Then hand him over to me and I'll relieve you of your guard. Where is
he?"
He half-turned toward the corner, in where I saw the poor old man lying
bound.
"He was very violent and--and we had to--to restrain him, or he would
have run into danger."
"You make a poor show as a liar. But never mind; release him."
"We can do it safely now," he said to his companion, adding to me, very
nervously: "I am not--not lying. We have saved his life."
"Quick," I said sternly. "As for your not lying, I have been concealed
in the warehouse there long enough to hear what has passed."
"Then you know what has become of our friend?" he asked as the other
began to set the Baron free.
"He has gone off in a boat."
"But that noise--that pistol shot--was it a shot? It may bring the
police here to us."
"I should think it's very likely. You'll be able to tell them how you
saved this old man's life," I replied drily. "Not that there seems to
be much life left in him," I added as the Baron was brought up to the
table and the light of the lamp fell on his bloodless features. It was
like the face of the dead.
He was unconscious and I laid him full length on the table and set to
work rubbing his hands and chafing his limbs to restore the circulation.
While doing this I found the bomb in his pocket and transferred it to
mine.
"If he is dead you will answer for it," I said, hot with rage against
them. I could detect no pulse and my efforts to restore him appeared to
have no effect.
"We have not harmed him, I swear that," declared the elder man.
"Well then, you'd better do your best to restore him."
"He is in your hands now. I cannot remain here any longer."
"Can't you?" The look with which I accompanied the words was enough,
and the two of them fell to work with me on the instant.
We succeeded in bringing him round at length; but he was as helpless as
a newborn babe; and to get him away from the place by any means short of
carrying him was impracticable.
What to do perplexed me infinitely. The time was running away fast; and
this threatened a double trouble. The men who had gone in search of me
might return; or the police might arrive, either roused by the shot
which had killed Gassen or brought by that spy whom I had seen on my
arrival.
Either event would be fatal to me.
To add to my exasperation I saw how, fool-like, I had myself destroyed
what would have been a feasible means of escape. If I had not sent that
boat off with its ghastly burden, I could have used it now; and I cursed
myself for my stupidity.
To get another was impossible. I could not leave the place to go and
hunt for one, neither could I send the others. I might whistle for a
sight of either of them again if once he got his nose outside.
And so far as I could tell, the old man would not be fit to walk for
hours. That we should remain there all that time was out of the
question of course. But I had to do something; and at length decided to
carry him down to the waterside, let the two men go where they would,
and hunt up some means of getting the Baron away by water.
"You must carry him down to the air," I said. I was compelled to make
them do it lest they should attempt some treachery.
Both were only too glad of the chance of escape thus offered them; and
they were in the act of picking him up, when sounds from below reached
us.
They dropped him again and stood looking at one another and shaking with
fear.
It flashed on me instantly that the police had come; and in order that I
might have a plausible tale to tell and appear to have been threatened
by my two companions, I ordered them back into a corner of the room and
drew out my revolver again.
"Don't you move so much as a finger," I cried. My intention was, of
course, to act as if I had rescued the Baron.
But I blundered. It was not the police. Three men came hurrying up the
stairs and into the room, and in one of them I recognized the fellow who
had been with Gassen at Ziegler's house on the night of the murder.
He recognized me at the same instant. One of the three, not
understanding the position and addressing the elder of the two,
exclaimed as he entered:
"We haven't got him, general."
"But we have. There he is," cried his companion.
The pause of surprise was broken by a laugh from one of the newcomers.
"What the devil does all this mean?" he asked.
At this point the cowardice of the man they had called the "general,"
promised to stand me in good stead. Watching me carefully, lest I
should carry out my threat to shoot him, he stepped forward a pace and
said: "There has been a great mistake. Gassen was wrong, and there has
not been any treachery. We were just about to leave here."
But the statement was received with a jeering scoff.
"Where are your wits, general?" cried the man who had spoken first, and
who appeared to exercise some amount of authority. "We all know that
some one betrayed us; and Fritz Gassen was right--it could only be this
man." He jerked his hand in my direction. "And we know where he got it
from"; and he emphasized this with a nod toward the old Baron lying so
still and white on the table. "Didn't he tell us so himself?"
"He does not know what he says; he's out of his mind," was the reply;
and for a while they wrangled.
"Well, where's Gassen? He can settle this between us," said the
newcomer after a while.
"He has gone"; and the speaker added the story about the supposed shot
and subsequent disappearance of Gassen.
The men listened very intently, and kept shooting black angry glances of
suspicion at me. They guessed what had occurred.
"Where is he?" they demanded, turning to me, when the "general"
finished.
I was on the horns of a dilemma. If I made any show of force I should
be giving the lie to the "general's" statement.
"He went off down the river to look for you," I answered.
"'Down' the river?" cried another quickly. "You hear that?"
"Well, up the river then," I said sullenly.
"You shot him. That's the truth," came the retort, sharp as a pistol
report.
This appeared to give me the opportunity I sought of being able to take
out my revolver without any apparent hostile intention. "Here's my
revolver. You can see for yourself it hasn't been fired."
But it was as bad a blunder as I could have made. One of them craned his
neck forward as if to satisfy himself of the truth of what I had said;
and then gave a cry of rage. "It's Gassen's pistol. There's his mark
on it. I know it."
The rest followed his pointing finger.
"Well, anyway it's loaded in all six chambers; and it's the only one
that's going to be drawn now." I spoke very coolly and watched the
three newcomers closely.
"What about no treachery now?" cried one, turning to the elder man.
"You've brought this on yourselves by suspecting me. You'd better go
before there's any trouble," I said to the three. If I could get rid of
them, the others would give little trouble enough.
"You'd better go," said the "general" nervously.
They were perplexed what to do, and stood hesitating near the door. The
sight of my weapon had a very wholesome restraining effect. One of them
began to back out, and it looked as if I was going to get my way and
frighten them off.
But just as this appeared most probable and I was beginning to breathe
more freely again, trouble came from the man, Schmidt, whom I had
treated with contemptuous indifference as of no account.
He had been standing in the corner to which I had thrust him on the
arrival of the others, and had not spoken a word. I had almost
forgotten him, indeed; but I was to pay for that forgetfulness now.
As I stood facing the others he was on my left hand, and he hurled
something at me with great force. It struck my revolver hand and the
weapon dropped. When I recovered my surprise I was looking down the
barrels of three pistols pointed straight at my head.
"No shooting here, Marx," cried the elder man earnestly. "It isn't
safe."
"Why didn't you say that when he was covering us?" was the angrily
spoken reply. "He shall pay for Gassen's death."
But terror of the consequences made the man earnest, and for a second he
stood right in the way of the pointed weapons. They pushed him
hurriedly aside; but I had been able to use the moment. I clapped my
hand to my pocket feeling for the weapon I had annexed, but instead I
felt the bomb I had taken from the old Baron, and raised it high so that
all should see it just as the man was thrust to one side.
"I'll send him to hell for that," declared the more daring man.
"Then we'll all go there together," I cried in a ringing voice. "I can
do it with this."
One of them fired at once, and that I was not killed was due only to the
"general's" terror. He threw up the fellow's arm as he fired.
"For God's sake," he exclaimed. "Are you all mad?"
"You fool," was the reply. "The thing's only a sham."
Again he was being pushed aside when another man came rushing in.
"The police!" he cried. And at the same instant we heard a loud
peremptory knocking at one of the street doors below.
In a moment panic held every man in the room in its thrall. Dead
silence fell on us.
But I doubt if any one of them was more utterly confounded than I or
more desperately embarrassed. To fall into the hands of the police was
better than to be shot down like a dog; but it meant a hundred hazards
for me to be caught under such circumstances.
We all stood staring at one another like a set of wax figures, the
common peril knitting us together in a bond of panic.
Then the knocking was repeated with even louder clamour than before.