THE ESCAPE
That evening remains in Dan Webster's memory as the most crowded and
most glorious of his life. Its supreme moment was when Kasia Vard gave
herself into his arms and raised her lips to his in confession and
surrender, and it left them both dazzled and breathless; but at last
they were able to speak coherently.
"So you are a prisoner, too?" Dan asked.
"Yes."
"I suspected it. How splendid that I have found you!"
"It was silly of me to be frightened--I might have known it was you!"
"How could you have known?"
"Admiral Pachmann told me he had set a trap for you."
Dan glanced about the room quickly.
"They must not know I am here," he said, lowering his voice.
Kasia sprang to the switch and snapped out the lights. Then she took him
by the hand and led him to a couch in one corner of the room.
"If we sit here," she said, "and speak very low, no one can hear us."
They sat down, but some moments passed before the conversation was
resumed.
"Now we must be sensible," she said, drawing away from him. "They may go
into your room at any moment, or come in here."
"That's true," Dan agreed. And then he remembered. "Kasia," he said,
hoarsely, "some one stole the box, after all!"
He heard her quick gasp of dismay.
"Not Pachmann!" she cried.
"No, not Pachmann; I don't know who it could have been, unless it was
that fellow Chevrial," and he rapidly told her the whole story. "I know
I was an awful chump to let Chevrial put it over me like that," he
concluded. "Once we're out of here, I'm going to scour New York for
him."
"Don't take it so to heart!" she protested, pressing his hand. "It
wasn't any fault of yours; and besides it doesn't matter so much, since
it wasn't Pachmann. Perhaps we can get it back--if we can't, why father
will make another! Come," she added, rising, "the first thing is to
escape. Can we get over the wall?"
"It looked pretty formidable; but I don't see what else we can do. We
can't fight our way out--I haven't anything to fight with."
"No; that is too dangerous," agreed Kasia, quickly. "There's a regular
giant of a man on guard out there."
"Two of them," said Dan. "I was an infant in their hands. Did you hear
me smashing things? There isn't much of the furniture left in that room
upstairs--and it did me good!"
"I did some smashing myself," laughed Kasia; "there are the pieces of a
chair over there by the wall."
Dan laughed in sympathy, with a heart surprisingly light. After all, it
was impossible to be either worried or frightened with her there beside
him!
"I'll go down and reconnoitre the wall," he said. "How far is the
pavement below your window?"
"Ten or twelve feet."
"I'll need more rope."
"My bed-clothes!" she cried. "We can make a rope from them."
She ran into the bedroom, drew the blind at the window, and then turned
on the light.
"No one can see us in here," she said, and began to strip the covers
from the bed. "Come in and shut the door, and they can't hear us
either."
Dan paused an instant at the threshold; then, ashamed of his hesitation,
he entered and closed the door.
"We can make a perfectly lovely rope of these," went on Kasia, her face
shining. "I happen to know how--we teach plaiting in our kindergarten on
the East side. First we must tear them into strips."
At this Dan helped her, and then the plaiting began. In twenty minutes
as many feet of rough but serviceable rope was done.
"Suppose I take a look around the court," Dan suggested, "while you
finish the plaiting. We'll need a lot of rope, if we have to go over the
wall, but perhaps there's some other way out."
She went with him to the window, watched him as he tied the rope to the
shutter-hinge, tested it to make sure that it was safe, and kissed him
before he swung himself off. Then she leaned far over the sill and
looked down into his upturned face, all her love in her eyes. A moment
he hung there, gazing raptly up at her, then slipped down into the
darkness; and Kasia, with brimming heart, returned to her task.
A very few minutes sufficed for Dan to convince himself that the only
way of escape from the court lay over the wall. He found the door
opening into the basement of the house, but it was a strong one and
securely bolted, as a pressure of the shoulder proved; and there was no
other entrance. The wall itself was not encouraging, for it was at least
twelve feet high, and at the top was that formidable iron defence. It
might be possible to throw their rope over one of the barbed points,
pull himself up, and draw Kasia up after him. Men had accomplished far
more difficult things than that to gain freedom!
He groped for the rope, found it, and mounted hand-over-hand to the
window-sill, threw his arm over it, drew himself up--and hung there,
paralysed, staring at what lay within.
Through the open door of the bedroom poured a stream of light, and
beyond, on the bed, sat Kasia, her head bent, her fingers busy with the
strips of cloth; and in the darkness of the outer room, peering in at
her, was dimly outlined a huge and threatening figure. Dan could see the
profile of the bearded face, half-turned away from him; could guess at
the leer upon it, the evil light in its eyes. Then slowly, slowly, it
drew closer to the bedroom door....
With teeth set and heart flaming, Dan drew himself quickly upon the
sill, stepped lightly into the room, and crouched in the shadow of the
table. Had the giant heard? He peeped out cautiously. No, he was still
intent upon the working girl. But a weapon--he must have a weapon--and
Dan's agonised glance, sweeping the room, fell upon the debris of the
broken chair. Quickly he crept to it, and his fingers closed about one
of the heavy legs.
Then, as he turned to seek the shelter of the table, Kasia glanced up
and saw that bearded face. Terror froze the smile upon her lips; terror
drained the strength from her limbs; terror strangled the cry in her
throat....
"Dan--Dan--Dan!"
And Dan, flaming with such rage as he had never known before, sprang
upright, sprang forward, and rising on tiptoe to get the whole weight of
his body into it, brought his club whirring down upon that shaggy head.
Like a log the man fell, with a crash that echoed through the house, and
instantly from the hallway came a hoarse shout, the rush of heavy
feet....
In that instant, Dan was possessed by a curious clairvoyance; he could
see Kasia, he could see his victim, he could see the room behind him, he
could see the hall with the other guard running along it; he knew
somehow that there was a pistol in the belt of the man who lay at his
feet, and, without conscious will of his own, his hand found it and
jerked it out.
That other figure had reached the threshold, and Dan was conscious of
his red face and staring eyes and open mouth. He was conscious of a
hairy hand closing on a pistol-butt, and, again without willing it, he
jerked his own hand up and fired....
And the next moment, with one arm about Kasia, he threw back the bolts
of the front door, flung it open, and fled down the steps into the
street.
That was all Dan ever remembered of those fierce instants. They
appeared to him afterwards as a series of tableaux, each standing
distinctly by itself, unconnected with the past or with the future, and
he felt himself to be, not an actor in them, but a puppet moved by
wires. It was as though his brain had leaped from one mountain-top to
another, across intervening valleys buried in fog.
But the instant his feet touched the pavement, the instant the fight was
won, his will asserted itself and his brain began again to work
connectedly. And the first thing he remembered doing was holding up his
hand and staring at it, astonished that it did not hold a pistol. He had
no recollection of having dropped it.
"We must get help!" Kasia panted. "My father is there!"
"The Prince and Pachmann are there, too," said Dan; "perhaps others." He
looked up and down the street. "I wonder where we are? There's the
elevated. Come along!"
Together they sped to the nearest corner. It proved to be Ninth Avenue,
and there, in the shadow of the elevated, they found a policeman on
duty.
It is true that Dan was not as coherent as he might have been and that
the story he told sounded like a pipe-dream; but the policeman was
undeniably slow of comprehension. At first he smiled good-naturedly.
"Aw, youse run along home now," he said. "I'm onto youse!"
"But, look here," Dan protested, "this is serious. I'm not drunk--I'm
just excited and scared. Now listen. There's a man held prisoner back
yonder by a lot of Germans, and I shot one of them and knocked another
down--and we've got to get him free...."
"Tut, tut!" said the officer, and then he looked at Dan closely, and
then he looked at Kasia, and then he took off his helmet and scratched
his head. "See here, now," he said, finally, "I'll call headquarters, if
you say so--but if you are stringin' me...."
"I'm not stringing you!" Dan cried. "And for heaven's sake be quick!
Every minute we waste...."
The passers-by had begun to stop and stare curiously, and the thought
flashed through Dan's mind that he might collect a posse....
But the patrolman had made up his mind.
"Come along with me," he said, and led the way into the rear room of the
corner drugstore and telephoned to his station for instructions. He
enlarged somewhat upon the perils of the expedition, as Dan had
recounted them, and when he came out of the booth, it was with a
distinctly relieved air.
"The sergeant says for us to wait here," he said, "and he'll rush some
detectives up right away."
"But we can't stay here!" Dan cried. "We've got to get back!"
"When the sergeant tells me to do a thing, I do it," said the officer
composedly. "So I'm goin' to stay right here."
Dan glared at him for a moment, and started to speak his mind, but
thought better of it.
"Any objection to my waiting in front of the house?" he asked.
The officer pondered a moment.
"No, I guess not. Right down this street, you said?"
"Yes; I didn't notice the number, but it's about half-way of the block.
I'll be waiting."
"All right. Skip along."
"I'm going too," said Kasia.
Dan started to object--the danger was not over yet--but she was already
at the door.
"Take the other side of the street," he called.
She nodded, crossed the street, and sped along in the shadow. In a
moment they were opposite the house. Nothing apparently had changed
there. The front door stood open as they had left it, with the light
from the hall streaming out over the steps. The hall, so far as they
could see, was empty. There was no one on the stairs.
Dan gazed at all this; then he shivered a little; he did not understand
the emptiness and silence; and he was suffering with the reaction from
those crowded moments.
"I don't like it," he said. "Where's Pachmann?"
"Perhaps he's not there."
Dan stood staring a moment longer, then swung round at her.
"I'm going to see," he said. "It was foolish to run away like that. I'm
ashamed of myself. Wait for me here."
He crossed the street and mounted the steps. As he stepped into the
hall, a groan arrested him. In a moment, he perceived the man whom he
had shot lying, half conscious, against the wall. In the room beyond,
the other man was sitting up, rubbing his head and staring stupidly
about him. Dan took one look at him, then closed the door and bolted it.
"And _that's_ all right!" he said, and turned to find Kasia at his
elbow. He glared at her sternly. "I thought I told you to wait outside!"
"With you in danger! What do you take me for?"
Dan took one look into the shining eyes, then put his arm about her,
dragged her to him, and kissed her fiercely.
"Refreshment for the heroic warrior on the field of battle," he
explained, before she could protest. "I don't think there's much danger;
but just the same you'll stay well in the rear, like a good girl! If
Pachmann's upstairs, we'll surely hear from him. He's certain to be
annoyed!"
"Can't we do something for this poor fellow?" she asked, her eyes large
with pity for the groaning man.
"The police will call an ambulance," said Dan. "There's nothing we can
do." On the floor beside the wounded man lay his revolver, and Dan
stooped and picked it up. "Now, remember, Gunga Din!" he added, "your
place is fifty paces right flank rear!"
He started up the stair, cautiously at first, but more boldly as no
sound came from the upper floor. At the stair-head he hesitated. The
upper hall was empty, but just opposite him an open door disclosed a
dark room beyond. Still there was no sound, and, after a moment, he
stepped to the door and peered inside.
"That was where they put my father," said Kasia. "He was lying on the
bed in there."
Before he could stop her, she brushed past him and sped across the room.
Then with a frightened cry, she started back. Dan was by her side in an
instant.
"Look!" she gasped, and pointed at the floor.
Dan saw a dim shape stretched across the inner threshold; then he
perceived that it was the body of a man. Pushing Kasia before him, he
returned to the outer door, fumbled for the switch and turned it. Yes,
it was the body of a man, lying on its face, its arms thrown above its
head. A strange odour greeted him as he bent above it--an odour which
made him curiously dizzy--but he managed to turn the body over.
"Why, it's Pachmann!" he cried, and stared down at him with starting
eyes.
It was not a pleasant sight. The Admiral's face was distorted with rage,
his lips curled savagely away from his teeth, his eyes were only
half-closed, his hands were clenched--and with it all, he was breathing
slowly and regularly, as though asleep.
"He isn't dead, anyway," said Dan, and rubbed his eyes, for strange
clouds floated before them. "And he doesn't seem to be hurt," he added,
looking again. "I wonder what happened to him--he isn't a pretty sight,
is he? And where's your father?"
"He's not here," said Kasia, and following her gesture, Dan saw that the
bed was empty.
Together they hastened back to the hall and looked into the other rooms.
They were all empty.
"Well, it beats me!" said Dan, at last, and stared down into the girl's
frightened face. "Your father isn't here, that's sure. It looks like he
either gave Pachmann his quietus with a solar plexus, or else Pachmann
just fell over on his face and went to sleep. Anyway, your father seems
to have escaped. But where's the Prince? Did they elope together?"
"Why didn't father stop and look for me?" demanded Kasia.
And then a light broke over Dan's face.
"He did--and found you gone. Don't you see," he went on, excitedly, "it
must have been while we were fussing with that thick-headed cop. And
probably, when he didn't find you, he hurried on home...."
But Kasia had already started for the stairs.
Dan paused for a last look at the recumbent figure. Suppose the man
should die--suppose something had happened to the Prince--there would be
the German Empire to be reckoned with, and the reckoning would be a
serious one--serious for himself, for Kasia, above all for Vard! Very
thoughtfully he turned away, followed Kasia down the stair, passed along
the hall and through the open door. On the top step he paused and looked
up and down the street. The police were not yet in sight.
With a little smile, Dan turned and pulled the door shut. Then he ran
down the steps after his companion.
"Let's go the other way," he said, as she turned toward Ninth Avenue.
"We may as well keep out of this. We can get the Subway just below
here."
And in another moment, they had turned the corner.
* * * * *
Wherefore it happened that, when the patrolman, in company with three
detectives, who had been torn away from a game of pinocle and who were
consequently in no very pleasant humour, reached the centre of the
block, some minutes later, there was no one in sight.
"He said he'd wait for us," said the patrolman, helplessly.
The detectives looked about them, but there was no evidence of anything
unusual about any of the houses.
"Which side of the street was it on?" one of them asked.
"He didn't say," answered the patrolman.
"Well, what _did_ he say?"
"Blamed if I know, exactly. He was so worked up--with his eyes stickin'
out, and his jaw shakin', and the girl hangin' on to his arm--but it was
something about kidnappin', and shootin' a man, and there bein' another
prisoner to rescue...."
He stopped, for there was frank incredulity in the three pairs of eyes
fastened upon him.
"He was stringin' you," said one of the detectives, at last.
"Or else he had a jag," said another.
"Dope, more likely," suggested the third. "Look here, Hennessey, don't
you ever git us up here again with no such cock-and-bull story! Come on,
boys!"
They left Hennessey rubbing his head helplessly and staring at the
houses, one after another. He wasn't at all convinced that the strange
youth had been "stringing" him--his excitement had too evidently been
genuine; but if he was on the square, why had he run away?
"Oh, hell!" said Hennessey, finally, and returned to his post at the
corner.
* * * * *
And it was about that time that the 'phone at the German consulate rang,
and a pleasant voice advised that a physician be sent at once to the
house just off Ninth Avenue, as his services were badly needed there.