THE TURN OF THE SCREW
It was a moment later that Kasia Vard, still sitting at the window
staring out into the court, searching desperately through her brain for
some plan of escape, was brought quivering to her feet by a shrill
scream, followed by the sound of a terrible struggle on the floor above.
There was a heavy tramping to and fro, the thud of falling furniture, a
dull crash that shook the house--and then silence. It was over in a
moment, but she stood rigid for a moment longer, her hands against her
heart, then she flew to the door and wrenched at the knob.
The door did not yield. Panting with excitement, she snatched up a chair
and drove it with all her strength against the lower panel. The chair
flew to pieces in her hands, but the door held firm. And then, as she
looked about for another weapon, she heard the sound of a sliding bolt,
the door swung open, and Pachmann entered. He looked at her and at the
broken chair, and smiled slightly.
"I come to reassure you, Miss Vard," he said, "since I suppose you must
have heard the noise of our little combat. No one was injured; but your
father, after a burst of rage at finding himself in our hands, during
which we found it most difficult to control him, has had what appears to
be an epileptic seizure. Is he subject to epilepsy?"
"I have known him to have two attacks," said Kasia, in a low voice, with
a shuddering remembrance of the desperate crisis at which each had come.
"There is nothing to be done, I think, except to loosen his clothing and
bathe his head and wrists?"
"No--that is all." Mechanically her hands were smoothing her disordered
hair.
"And there is, of course, no danger. Nevertheless, you may wish to go to
him."
"I do wish it."
"Then come with me," and he led the way up the stair. "Your father is in
there," he said, pointing to an inner room. "I will bring some water."
Kasia, with white face, passed into the inner room. Her father had been
placed on a bed, and lay on his back, his eyes rolled up, breathing
heavily. His hands were tightly clenched, but already the spasm was
passing and the muscles relaxing. Almost at once, Pachmann appeared at
the door, handed her a basin of water and then withdrew.
Under her ministrations, the breathing of the unconscious man grew
softer and softer, the hands unclosed, the eyelids drooped, and finally
his head fell over on one side and he slept. Kasia, watching him for a
few moments, assured herself that all was well, then turned out the
light, returned to the outer room and closed the door.
Pachmann was sitting at the window, staring idly out at the deepening
shadows. He arose at once at the sound of her entrance.
"Miss Vard," he said, "there is something I wish to say to you. Will you
not sit down?" and he placed a chair for her. "What I have to say is
most serious, and whatever your feeling of ill-usage may be, I hope you
will try to look at the matter also a little from my side. The situation
is this: Your father, as you doubtless know, is the inventor of a
mechanism which will make the nation possessing it mistress of the
world. That nation must be Germany. Apart from my ambition for my
country and my love of her, I believe that she is the nation best fitted
to possess it. At any cost, it must be hers--no cost can be too great; a
hundred lives, a thousand lives, millions of treasure--all these would
be sacrificed gladly, without hesitation. You understand?"
"Yes," said Kasia. "I think I understand."
"It is your father's dream, as I suppose you also know," Pachmann
continued, "to bring about a world-wide peace by causing all nations to
strike hands together in a sort of universal brotherhood. He demands
that, to enter this brotherhood, Germany relinquish her share of Poland
and restore Elsass and Lorraine to France. He requires, too, the
virtual abdication of our ruling house. To such conditions Germany
cannot consent. Rather than that, we should prefer a hundred times the
present status. For Germany has nothing to fear from the future.
"Now, Miss Vard, let me say at once that I regard your father's dream as
a dream and nothing more. It cannot be realised. There is only one way
in which world-peace can be secured--let your father consent to place
this power in our hands, and there will be no more war--or, at most,
only one very short and decisive war. If your father is in earnest, if
he is not mad, he will consent to this proposal. I need hardly add that,
if he does consent, he has only to name his own reward--Germany will pay
it gladly. Wealth, position, the suzerainty of a nation--all this
Germany is prepared to grant."
"You have placed this before him?" Kasia asked.
"Yes; it was placed before him at much greater length at our second
conference."
"And he refused?"
"He refused; but we cannot take that refusal."
"Why do you tell me all this?"
"I tell you this, Miss Vard," answered Pachmann earnestly, "because I
wish you to understand that in what may seem to you treachery and
persecution, I am but fighting for my country. For her, I hesitate at
nothing. Then, too, I wish you to know what our position is. If you
will think of it, I believe you will find it an honourable position, and
one which will bring peace to the world, and quickly. I hope that, after
full consideration, you will decide to speak to your father. Perhaps to
you he might listen."
"No, he would not listen," said Kasia, calmly; "and I shall not speak;
or, if I do, it will be to urge him to continue to defy you. Do you
imagine that any threat, any torture, could compel him to place the
world at the mercy of your Kaiser? You do not know him, Mr. Pachmann."
"That is your final answer?" Pachmann asked.
"Yes."
He rose.
"Then I shall have to request you to return to the room below."
"One moment, Mr. Pachmann," said Kasia. "I wonder if you realise how
dangerous is this game you are playing? You are not in Germany; you
cannot kidnap two people here in New York, even by the Emperor's order,
without some inquiry being made."
"Who will make it? No one knows that you were on the _Ottilie_; your
room was empty, your names were not among the list of passengers; to all
inquiries the reply will be made that you did not cross with the boat.
No one knows that you are in New York."
"You are mistaken," retorted Kasia, her cheeks flushed. "One man knows.
I am to meet him this evening."
"Ah! but when he finds you not at home, when he inquires of our company,
he will conclude that you missed the boat."
"He will know better, because he crossed with us."
Pachmann stared at her, his brows contracted; then a slow smile broke
across his lips.
"I remember now," he said. "I did, on one occasion, observe you talking
to a young man. No doubt it is to him you refer."
"Yes--and he has a power at his disposal which even you may fear."
Pachmann chuckled.
"The power of the press, is it not?" he asked. "Be at rest, Miss Vard.
He will not use it against us. He will walk into our net at seven
o'clock this evening! You may be sure that now he will not be permitted
to escape!"
In spite of herself, Kasia turned pale. Herself and her father she was
prepared to sacrifice--they had played for a great stake and had been
outwitted. But Dan! That he, too, should be drawn into the whirlpool and
sucked down and destroyed! She turned faint at the thought. Then she
pulled herself up sharply, for Pachmann's gimlet eyes were upon her,
glittering with comprehension, reading her face, while on his own there
was an expression of infernal triumph. She shivered as she looked at
him.
"Have you anything else to say, Miss Vard?" he asked, with a leer.
"No," said Kasia, and turned to the door, anxious to hide her face, to
escape from him, to be alone with her thoughts.
"Then please come with me."
She stepped first to the inner door and glanced at her father. He was
sleeping peacefully. Then she followed Pachmann down the stair. At the
door of her room he paused.
"By the way, Miss Vard," he said, still leering, "it is useless for you
to fatigue yourself by endeavouring to break this door. It is
strengthened on the outside by a sheet of steel--behold." He swung the
door for her to see, then held it open for her. "I will have your dinner
sent in to you," he added, and Kasia heard the bolts shot into place
again.
Half an hour later, a bearded giant in livery brought in a tray
containing a very appetizing meal, set it on the table, and retired.
Kasia realised suddenly that she was very hungry, for she had had
nothing to eat since breakfast. There was certainly nothing to be gained
by starving herself--that, she told herself with a shiver, might come
later!--so she washed hands and face at the basin in the bathroom,
straightened her hair, and at last sat down to the meal with a calmness
which surprised even herself. She ate deliberately and well, and when,
at last, she pushed her cup away, it was with a sense of renewed
strength and courage.
Once more she examined the room minutely, but there was no exit save by
the steel-lined door. The windows remained, but they opened into that
well-like court, with walls surmounted by bristling iron. Yet she was
strong and agile; perhaps ... perhaps....
She snapped out the light, went to the open window and peered out. It
was very dark in the shadow of those walls, but she remembered precisely
how it looked; she remembered the door opening into the basement, just
beneath the window. If it should, by any chance, be unlocked. But that
was foolish to expect. Perhaps it would be possible to twist a rope from
the bed-clothes and throw it up over the chevaux-de-frise; but even then
there would be a long hand-over-hand climb to accomplish; and the barbed
and pointed spikes had looked very formidable. In any event, she had the
whole night before her; she must not act hastily; she must wait and
watch; perhaps some other means would present itself; perhaps Dan....
And then the pain of recollection stabbed through her. Dan could do
nothing; Dan was to be himself entrapped; and yet, how could that be?
Perhaps Pachmann was lying--and yet he had not seemed to be lying. He
had spoken confidently, triumphantly, gloatingly.
She sat erect, listening, then stole to the door and placed one ear
against it. There were steps in the hall outside, steps which passed,
which mounted the stair....
Perhaps that was Dan; yes, it must be after seven o'clock....
She forced herself to sit again at the window, but her hands were
trembling. She stared out into the shadows of the little court and tried
to think. But thinking was so difficult; there was a dull ache at the
back of her eyes, and her throat felt dry and swollen. One thought ran
through her mind, over and over: Dan must not be sacrificed, Dan must
not suffer; even if Germany must triumph....
Then, suddenly, from overhead, came the sound of a sharp scuffle and a
heavy fall. She fancied she could hear voices raised in anger. The slam
of a door echoed through the house. A moment later came a series of
savage blows, of rending crashes, as though the house itself was being
torn to pieces;--and then silence.
Kasia stood as though turned to stone, listening, listening. Was it Dan?
Was it her father? What was happening in that room upstairs? What did
that sudden silence mean? Her imagination pictured frightful things....
And then, from overhead, she heard the pacing of swift feet, up and
down, up and down; back and forth a hundred times, as though driven by
some raging spirit, scourging, scourging. And then again silence.
Horrible as the sounds had been, the silence frightened her still more;
it was filled with menace, it was charged with terror. Movement,
sound--those meant life, at least; silence might mean anything--might
mean death!
She could endure it no longer. She ran wildly into the other room and
flung herself face-downward on the bed, covering her ears, burying her
eyes in the pillow....
But the terror passed; and at last she rolled over and stared up into
the darkness and tried again to think. She must, must, must escape! Once
free, once in the street, she could summon aid, could raise the town,
could storm the house! But to escape! She pressed her hands to her
aching temples.
And then a sound from the outer room brought her upright; she listened
with bated breath, pressing her hands against her breast to still the
beating of her heart. There it was again, stealthy, scraping....
Slowly, cautiously, she stole to the door of the bedroom; the noise
again; and the sound of heavy breathing. And then her heart leaped
suffocatingly; for there against the grey light of the window was
silhouetted the figure of a man. In frantic terror, she sprang for the
switch, found it after an instant's frenzied groping, and turned on the
lights. The sudden flare blinded her; then her straining eyes saw who
stood there.
"Dan!" she cried. "Dan!"
He was standing on the window-sill, steadying himself by a knotted sheet
secured somewhere overhead; and at the sound of her voice, he reeled and
nearly fell. Then, with a face like ivory, he stooped and peered in
under the raised sash, rubbed his eyes, looked a second time, and with a
low cry, sprang into the room.
"Kasia!"
She was in his arms, close, oh! close to his heart.
"Oh, Dan, Dan!" she sobbed. "I'm so glad--so glad!"
And she kissed him with trembling lips.