THE TRAP
To Kasia Vard the day had been one of manifold excitements. Like Dan,
she had awakened to find the boat motionless, and had run to the window
to gaze entranced at the green slopes of Sandy Hook. Home! Home! She
fairly sang the words as she dressed and rushed on deck. From that
instant, every moment was charged with emotion, culminating as she
leaned against the rail and gazed with misty eyes at Bartholdi's
masterpiece. She remembered how, ten years before, her father, with
tears streaming down his cheeks, had lifted her in his arms for her
first sight of the majestic Goddess, and had explained to her, in a
voice broken by emotion, why this statue stood here, at the entrance of
this great harbour, holding her torch high in the air.
The ship swept on, and Kasia, with a sigh of joy, turned her eyes
forward for the first sight of New York.
It was at that moment her father joined her. One glance at his face, and
she had placed her hand within his arm, walked back with him to their
suite, entered and closed the door.
"Now tell me," she said. "What has happened?"
"I have just seen Pachmann," answered her father hoarsely. "He has
arranged for the final conference as soon as we land. It will be at the
consulate. There is yet one danger," and he dropped his voice. "Pachmann
has discovered that there are spies on board--French spies. They suspect
something--how much we do not know. But it is necessary for us to evade
them. We will leave the pier as soon as we land with Pachmann and the
Prince. Pachmann will have a car waiting--he has made all arrangements.
Here is your landing-ticket."
Kasia took it and slipped it inside her glove.
"Very well," she said. "But the baggage?"
"We cannot wait for that--it would be too dangerous. I will return for
it as soon as the conference is over." His eyes were burning with
excitement, his lips twitching with nervousness. "I am glad that the
hour is at hand," he added. "I feel that I could not endure a longer
delay--these hours of suspense are dangerous for me."
Kasia laid a calming hand upon his arm.
"I know, father," she said. "You must not permit yourself to dwell upon
it so. Let us go on deck again and watch the landing."
"No; we are to wait here," said her father. "These last moments we must
not be seen," and he sat gnawing feverishly at his fingers.
The long minutes drifted by. They could hear the rush of feet and
chatter of voices on the deck outside, then excited cries of recognition
and greeting, as the boat swung into the dock, and finally the clatter
of the gangplank as it was run into place. Almost at once there came a
tap at the door. Vard sprang to open it and found Pachmann and the
Prince outside.
"You are ready?" asked the former.
"Yes," and Kasia and her father stepped out upon the deck.
"You have your landing-checks? Good. Then we will start."
They joined the long line moving down the gangplank.
"This way," said Pachmann, the instant they reached the pier, and led
Vard hurriedly toward the entrance.
Kasia, left with the Prince, glanced into his moody and downcast face.
"So we are permitted to have another chat," she said, smiling at his
woebegone appearance, and tucked her hand under his arm. "You look as
though you needed some advice. What is wrong?"
He glanced at her, then looked away, and answered with a shake of the
head.
Just beyond the entrance stood a handsome limousine, its motor
throbbing. Pachmann hurried them all into it, stepped round for a word
with the driver, then himself jumped in and slammed the door. The car
started with a jerk, backed out of the pier-shed, and headed away
northward through the streets of Hoboken. This way and that it turned
and doubled, while Pachmann gazed anxiously through the little window in
the back. No one spoke, but they all watched Pachmann's face. At last
they were in the open country, with a smooth road ahead. The driver
opened his throttle, pushed up his spark, and in a moment they were
whirling along at forty miles an hour. Pachmann looked back for yet a
moment; then he turned with a sigh of relief and sank back into his
seat.
"We have evaded them," he said. "But we will take no chances."
On and on went the car, climbing to the top of the Palisades and
threading the Jersey woods; mile after mile along woodland roads, past
country estates, through little villages, on and on. At last, on a long
stretch of lonely road, they stopped, and the chauffeur climbed down,
detached the licence numbers at front and rear, and strapped on another
set. Then onward again, back toward the river, and finally, at the Fort
Lee ferry, down to the water's edge. The boat was about to start when
the car ran on board; in another minute it was moving out into the
stream. No one else had come on board, nor was there any sign of
pursuers on the bank.
Leaving the ferry, on the other side, the car at once plunged into a
tangle of by-streets, and Pachmann half drew the curtains. Then, turning
southward along Riverside Drive, it joined the endless procession of
cars there, in which it became at once only an indistinguishable unit.
Finally it turned eastward along a quiet street, swung sharply around
one corner and then around another, and stopped.
"Here we are," said Pachmann, threw open the door, and jumped out.
The Prince followed, and, without looking back, walked straight across
the sidewalk and up the steps of the house opposite. Pachmann, with a
smile on his lips, waited to assist Miss Vard to alight.
"But this is not the consulate!" she protested, looking first at the
house and then up and down the street. She had never seen the consulate,
but she knew it would not be in such a house nor in such a street.
Besides, there was no flag above the door.
"No, it is not the consulate," said Pachmann smoothly, and turned to
Vard. "I found, at the last moment, that there was a reception at the
consulate to-day which would make our conference there impossible. I
managed to procure this house, where one of our secretaries lives, and
where we will be secure against interruption. But if you prefer the
consulate, we can, of course, wait until to-morrow--"
"No, no," Vard broke in. "Let us get it finished at once--there has been
too much delay."
"I agree with you," said Pachmann. "I, also, am anxious to get the
affair settled," and he led the way into the house. "If you will wait
here, Miss Vard," he added, and pulled aside the hangings before a door
opening from the hall. "We will not be long."
Kasia stepped through the doorway, and the curtain dropped behind her.
She heard the footsteps of her companions mounting the stair to the
upper story; then all was still. She glanced about the room; it was a
rather small one, furnished as a sitting-room, with furniture both cheap
and scant. There were two windows, side by side, which opened upon a
little court or area-way closed in by high walls, topped by an ugly and
formidable iron chevaux-de-frise, which would be equally effective in
preventing any one getting in or getting out.
She soon exhausted the interest of this limited prospect, and, turning
back to the room, spent a long half-hour wandering about it, looking at
this and that, endeavouring to keep her thoughts occupied. She was
vaguely uneasy, a feeling of oppression weighed upon her, and from
moment to moment she caught herself listening for some sound, but the
house was absolutely still. Finally she drew a chair to one of the
windows, and sitting down, stared out again into the little court. It
was dark and damp and well-like and apparently never swept, for its
pavement was littered with rubbish. Again she caught herself listening,
her head half-turned. But she heard no sound. It must be past the middle
of the afternoon; she should be getting home to set their rooms in
order, for to-night Dan was coming....
And again she was listening, rigid, breathless in her chair. There was
no sound; but suddenly, with nerves a-quiver, she sprang to her feet,
crossed the room and swept back the hangings at the door. She was
surprised to find that the door itself had been closed. She turned the
knob, but the door did not open; she shook it, but it held fast. And
then she realised that it was locked.
It was a moment before she understood. Then, very quietly, she crossed
the room to another door and tried it. She had expected it to be locked
also, but to her surprise it opened. Beyond it was a bedroom, also with
a window opening on the walled court, and beyond the bedroom was a
windowless bathroom. There were no other doors.
She returned to the outer room and again tried the door, testing it
cautiously but firmly with her whole strength. Yes; there could be no
doubt of it--she was locked in. She went to one of the windows, raised
the sash and looked out. It was at least a twelve-foot drop to the
flagged pavement of the court. That might be managed with the help of
the bed-clothes, but there remained the high wall and the threatening
iron spikes. Below her, she could see that a small door opened from the
court into the basement of the house, but it had no other exit.
She found the fresh air welcome, and sat down, at last, before the open
window. She was much calmer than she had been; now that she was face to
face with danger, the feeling of oppression vanished and her courage
rose. She was a Pole, she had been trained in a hard school, she was not
afraid. No, she repeated passionately to herself, she was not afraid;
and how she hated that smooth-tongued German, with the cold eyes and
smiling lips! Treacherous! Treacherous!
* * * * *
"If you will come this way," said Pachmann, and Vard tramped after him
up the stair to a room on the second floor.
The Prince was already there, standing at the window, hands in pockets,
staring moodily out.
"Be seated, Mr. Vard," said Pachmann. "My dear Prince, will you not sit
down?"
The Prince flung himself into a chair.
"And now, Mr. Vard," went on Pachmann, sitting down very deliberately
face to face with the inventor, "our answer is ready for you."
"Very well; let me have it," snapped Vard, twitching with impatience.
"We refuse to accept your conditions."
For an instant there was silence, then Vard leaped to his feet, his face
livid.
"So you have been playing with me!" he cried. "Well, I suspected it! And
you shall pay! Oh, you shall pay!" and he turned blindly to the door.
"One moment!" called Pachmann, and his voice had in it a ring of command
which Vard had never heard before. "Sit down. I have still something to
say."
"I do not care to hear it."
"That is nothing to me. You _shall_ hear it!"
With a glance of contempt, Vard strode to the door and turned the knob;
but it did not open. He wrenched at it madly, but it held fast. In two
strides he confronted Pachmann.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"The meaning," replied the Admiral sternly, "is that you are a prisoner
here until I choose to release you. Now will you sit down?"
Vard stood for a moment, his face deadly white, his hands clasping and
unclasping convulsively, staring down into Pachmann's leering eyes;
then he went slowly back to his chair.
"That is right," said the German. "It will be best to take this calmly.
In the first place, I want you to realise that you are wholly in my
power. Nothing that occurs in this house will ever be known to the
outside world. If you should fail to reappear, there will be no one to
trace you. You will remember that we have your daughter also. And I say
to you in all seriousness, and as emphatically as I can, that neither
your life nor your daughter's life will cause me to turn aside or even
to hesitate. I would kill you with my own hands, and then your
daughter--yes, and a thousand like you, if need be--rather than that
this chance should be lost to Germany. I say to you, then, that either
you will consent to my proposal, or both you and your daughter will
suffer the utmost consequence."
Vard's eyes had never left the speaker's face, nor had any colour come
back into his own. But at the last words he laughed contemptuously.
"It is useless," he sneered. "I am not one to be frightened."
"I am not trying to frighten you--I warn you."
"Your warning is useless. I reply to you in all seriousness that neither
my life, nor my daughter's life--no, nor the lives of a thousand like
us!--would persuade me to put this power in your hands. But you dare
not kill me. In this brain, and there alone, is the great secret."
"You forget," Pachmann reminded him, "that in your baggage is a complete
machine. We do not really need you."
At the words, Vard burst into a shout of mad laughter. Pachmann watched
him, and his face fell into haggard lines.
"So that is it!" jeered the inventor, when he had got his breath. "So
that is the great plot! Well, Pachmann, to that I answer, 'Checkmate!'
Go, get the baggage! You are welcome to all you find there!"
"You mean the machine is not there?" demanded Pachmann, thickly.
"Just that!"
"Where is it then?"
Gazing into his adversary's bloodshot eyes, Vard had another burst of
strangling laughter.
"I have already told you," he said. "In this brain--there alone--there
alone!" His face was red now, strangely red, and his words were queerly
jumbled.
Pachmann sat looking at him for a moment, then he rose.
"We shall soon see if you are speaking the truth," he said. "Whether you
are or not makes no difference. If there is no machine in your baggage,
you shall construct for us another."
"Oh, shall I!" screamed Vard, also springing to his feet. "Shall I! How
good of you, that permission!"
"You shall construct another!" repeated Pachmann, between clenched
teeth. "Oh, you will be glad to consent, once I turn the screw! Come,
Prince."
He tapped at the door, and there came from outside the scrape of a
sliding bolt. Then, standing aside for the Prince to pass, he looked
once at Vard, and turned to cross the threshold.