THE SECOND BATTLE OF THE CRUIVES
The military historian must often make shift to write of battles with
slender data, but he can pad out his deficiencies by learned parallels.
If his were the talented pen describing this, the latest action fought
on British soil against a foreign foe, he would no doubt be crippled by
the absence of written orders and war diaries. But how eloquently he
would discant on the resemblance between Dougal and Gouraud--how the
plan of leaving the enemy to waste his strength upon a deserted position
was that which on the 15th of July, 1918, the French general had used
with decisive effect in Champagne! But Dougal had never heard of
Gouraud, and I cannot claim that, like the Happy Warrior, he
"through the heat of conflict kept the law
In calmness made, and saw what he foresaw."
I have had the benefit of discussing the affair with him and his
colleagues, but I should offend against historic truth if I represented
the main action as anything but a scrimmage--a "soldiers' battle," the
historian would say, a Malplaquet, an Albuera.
Just after half-past three that afternoon the Commander-in-Chief was
revealed in a very bad temper. He had intercepted Sir Archie's car,
and, since Léon was known to be fully occupied, had brought it in by the
West Lodge, and hidden it behind a clump of laurels. There he had held a
hoarse council of war. He had cast an appraising eye over Sime the
butler, Carfrae the chauffeur, and McGuffog the gamekeeper, and his
brows had lightened when he beheld Sir Archie with an armful of guns and
two big cartridge-magazines. But they had darkened again at the first
words of the leader of the reinforcements.
"Now for the Tower," Sir Archie had observed cheerfully. "We should be a
match for the three watchers, my lad, and it's time that poor devil
What's-his-name was relieved."
"A bonny-like plan that would be," said Dougal. "Man, ye would be
walkin' into the very trap they want. In an hour, or maybe two, the rest
will turn up from the sea and they'd have ye tight by the neck. Na, na!
It's time we're wantin', and the longer they think we're a' in the auld
Tower the better for us. What news o' the polis?"
He listened to Sir Archie's report with a gloomy face.
"Not afore the darkenin'? They'll be ower late--the polis are aye ower
late. It looks as if we had the job to do oursels. What's _your_
notion?"
"God knows," said the baronet whose eyes were on Saskia. "What's yours?"
The deference conciliated Dougal. "There's just the one plan that's
worth a docken. There's five o' us here, and there's plenty weapons.
Besides there's five Die-Hards somewhere about, and though they've
never tried it afore they can be trusted to loose off a gun. My advice
is to hide at the Garplefoot and stop the boats landin'. We'd have the
tinklers on our flank, no doubt, but I'm not muckle feared o' them. It
wouldn't be easy for the boats to get in wi' this tearin' wind and us
firin' volleys from the shore."
Sir Archie stared at him with admiration. "You're a hearty young
fire-eater. But Great Scott! we can't go pottin' at strangers before we
find out their business. This is a law-abidin' country, and we're not
entitled to start shootin' except in self-defence. You can wash that
plan out, for it ain't feasible."
Dougal spat cynically. "For all that it's the right strawtegy. Man, we
might sink the lot, and then turn and settle wi' Dobson, and all afore
the first polisman showed his neb. It would be a grand performance. But
I was feared ye wouldn't be for it.... Well, there's just the one other
thing to do. We must get inside the Hoose and put it in a state of
defence. Heritage has McCunn's pistol, and he'll keep them busy for a
bit. When they've finished wi' him and find the place is empty, they'll
try the Hoose and we'll give them a warm reception. That should keep us
goin' till the polis arrive, unless they're comin' wi' the blind
carrier."
Sir Archie nodded. "But why put ourselves in their power at all? They're
at present barking up the wrong tree. Let them bark up another wrong
'un. Why shouldn't the House remain empty? I take it we're here to
protect the Princess. Well, we'll have done that if they go off
empty-handed."
Dougal looked up to the heavens. "I wish McCunn was here," he sighed.
"Ay, we've got to protect the Princess, and there's just the one way to
do it, and that's to put an end to this crowd o' blagyirds. If they gang
empty-handed, they'll come again another day, either here or somewhere
else, and it won't be long afore they get the lassie. But if we finish
with them now she can sit down wi' an easy mind. That's why we've got to
hang on to them till the polis comes. There's no way out o' this
business but a battle."
He found an ally. "Dougal is right," said Saskia. "If I am to have
peace, by some way or other the fangs of my enemies must be drawn for
ever."
He swung round and addressed her formally. "Mem, I'm askin' ye for the
last time. Will ye keep out of this business? Will ye gang back and sit
doun aside Mrs. Morran's fire and have your tea and wait till we come
for ye? Ye can do no good, and ye're puttin' yourself terrible in the
enemy's power. If we're beat and ye're no' there, they get very little
satisfaction, but if they get _you_ they get what they've come seekin'.
I tell ye straight--ye're an encumbrance."
She laughed mischievously. "I can shoot better than you," she said.
He ignored the taunt. "Will ye listen to sense and fall to the rear?"
"I will not," she said.
"Then gang your own gait. I'm ower wise to argy-bargy wi' women. The
Hoose be it!"
It was a journey which sorely tried Dougal's temper. The only way in was
by the verandah, but the door at the west end had been locked, and the
ladder had disappeared. Now of his party three were lame, one lacked an
arm, and one was a girl; besides, there were the guns and cartridges to
transport. Moreover, at more than one point before the verandah was
reached the route was commanded by a point on the ridge near the old
Tower, and that had been Spidel's position when Dougal made his last
reconnaissance. It behoved to pass these points swiftly and
unobtrusively, and his company was neither swift nor unobtrusive.
McGuffog had a genius for tripping over obstacles, and Sir Archie was
for ever proffering his aid to Saskia, who was in a position to give
rather than to receive, being far the most active of the party. Once
Dougal had to take the gamekeeper's head and force it down, a
performance which would have led to an immediate assault but for Sir
Archie's presence. Nor did the latter escape. "Will ye stop heedin' the
lassie, and attend to your own job," the Chieftain growled. "Ye're
makin' as much noise as a road-roller."
Arrived at the foot of the verandah wall there remained the problem of
the escalade. Dougal clambered up like a squirrel by the help of cracks
in the stones, and he could be heard trying the handle of the door into
the House. He was absent for about five minutes and then his head peeped
over the edge accompanied by the hooks of an iron ladder. "From the
boiler-house," he informed them as they stood clear for the thing to
drop. It proved to be little more than half the height of the wall.
Saskia ascended first, and had no difficulty in pulling herself over the
parapet. Then came the guns and ammunition, and then the one-armed Sime,
who turned out to be an athlete. But it was no easy matter getting up
the last three. Sir Archie anathematised his frailties. "Nice old crock
to go tiger-shootin' with," he told the Princess. "But set me to
something where my confounded leg don't get in the way, and I'm still
pretty useful!" Dougal, mopping his brow with the rag he called his
handkerchief, observed sourly that he objected to going scouting with a
herd of elephants.
Once indoors his spirits rose. The party from the Mains had brought
several electric torches and the one lamp was presently found and lit.
"We can't count on the polis," Dougal announced, "and when the
foreigners is finished wi' the Tower they'll come on here. If no', we
must make them. What is it the sodgers call it? Forcin' a battle? Now
see here! There's the two roads into this place, the back door and the
verandy, leavin' out the front door which is chained and lockit. They'll
try those two roads first and we must get them well barricaded in time.
But mind, if there's a good few o' them, it'll be an easy job to batter
in the front door or the windies, so we maun be ready for that."
He told off a fatigue party--the Princess, Sir Archie and McGuffog--to
help in moving furniture to the several doors. Sime and Carfrae
attended to the kitchen entrance, while he himself made a tour of the
ground-floor windows. For half an hour the empty house was loud with
strange sounds. McGuffog, who was a giant in strength, filled the
passage at the verandah end with an assortment of furniture ranging from
a grand piano to a vast mahogany sofa, while Saskia and Sir Archie
pillaged the bedrooms and packed up the interstices with mattresses in
lieu of sandbags. Dougal on his return saw fit to approve their work.
"That'll fickle the blagyirds. Down at the kitchen door we've got a
mangle, five wash-tubs and the best part of a ton o' coal. It's the
windies I'm anxious about, for they're ower big to fill up. But I've
gotten tubs o' water below them and a lot o' wire-nettin' I fund in the
cellar."
Sir Archie morosely wiped his brow. "I can't say I ever hated a job
more," he told Saskia. "It seems pretty cool to march into somebody
else's house and make free with his furniture. I hope to goodness our
friends from the sea do turn up, or we'll look pretty foolish. Loudon
will have a score against me he won't forget."
"Ye're no' weakenin'?" asked Dougal fiercely.
"Not a bit. Only hopin' somebody hasn't made a mighty big mistake."
"Ye needn't be feared for that. Now you listen to your instructions.
We're terrible few for such a big place, but we maun make up for
shortness o' numbers by extra mobility. The gemkeeper will keep the
windy that looks on the verandy, and fell any man that gets through.
You'll hold the verandy door, and the ither lame man--is't Carfrae ye
call him?--will keep the back door. I've telled the one-armed man, who
has some kind of a head on him, that he maun keep on the move, watchin'
to see if they try the front door or any o' the other windies. If they
do, he takes his station there. D'ye follow?"
Sir Archie nodded gloomily. "What is my post?" Saskia asked.
"I've appointed ye my Chief of Staff," was the answer. "Ye see we've no
reserves. If this door's the dangerous bit, it maun be reinforced from
elsewhere; and that'll want savage thinkin'. Ye'll have to be ay on the
move, Mem, and keep me informed. If they break in at two bits, we're
beat, and there'll be nothin' for it but to retire to our last position.
Ye ken the room ayont the hall where they keep the coats. That's our
last trench, and at the worst we fall back there and stick it out. It
has a strong door and a wee windy, so they'll no' be able to get in on
our rear. We should be able to put up a good defence there, unless they
fire the place over our heads.... Now, we'd better give out the guns."
"We don't want any shootin' if we can avoid it," said Sir Archie, who
found his distaste for Dougal growing, though he was under the spell of
the one being there who knew precisely his own mind.
"Just what I was goin' to say. My instructions is, reserve your fire,
and don't loose off till you have a man up against the end o' your
barrel."
"Good Lord, we'll get into a horrible row. The whole thing may be a
mistake, and we'll be had up for wholesale homicide. No man shall fire
unless I give the word."
The Commander-in-Chief looked at him darkly. Some bitter retort was on
his tongue, but he restrained himself.
"It appears," he said, "that ye think I'm doin' all this for fun. I'll
no 'argy wi' ye. There can be just the one general in a battle, but I'll
give ye permission to say the word when to fire.... Macgreegor!" he
muttered, a strange expletive only used in moments of deep emotion.
"I'll wager ye'll be for sayin' the word afore I'd say it mysel'."
He turned to the Princess. "I hand over to you, till I am back, for I
maun be off and see to the Die-Hards. I wish I could bring them in here,
but I daren't lose my communications. I'll likely get in by the
boiler-house skylight when I come back, but it might be as well to keep
a road open here unless ye're actually attacked."
Dougal clambered over the mattresses and the grand piano; a flicker of
waning daylight appeared for a second as he squeezed through the door,
and Sir Archie was left staring at the wrathful countenance of McGuffog.
He laughed ruefully.
"I've been in about forty battles, and here's that little devil rather
worried about my pluck, and talkin' to me like a corps commander to a
newly joined second-lieutenant. All the same he's a remarkable child,
and we'd better behave as if we were in for a real shindy. What do you
think, Princess?"
"I think we are in for what you call a shindy. I am in command,
remember. I order you to serve out the guns."
This was done, a shot-gun and a hundred cartridges to each, while
McGuffog, who was a marksman, was also given a sporting Mannlicher, and
two other rifles, a .303 and a small-bore Holland, were kept in reserve
in the hall. Sir Archie, free from Dougal's compelling presence, gave
the gamekeeper peremptory orders not to shoot till he was bidden, and
Carfrae at the kitchen door was warned to the same effect. The shuttered
house, where the only light apart from the garden-room was the feeble
spark of the electric torches, had the most disastrous effect upon his
spirits. The gale which roared in the chimney and eddied among the
rafters of the hall seemed an infernal commotion in a tomb.
"Let's go upstairs," he told Saskia; "there must be a view from the
upper windows."
"You can see the top of the old Tower, and part of the sea," she said.
"I know it well, for it was my only amusement to look at it. On clear
days, too, one could see high mountains far in the west." His depression
seemed to have affected her, for she spoke listlessly, unlike the vivid
creature who had led the way in.
In a gaunt west-looking bedroom, the one in which Heritage and Dickson
had camped the night before, they opened a fold of the shutters and
looked out into a world of grey wrack and driving rain. The Tower roof
showed mistily beyond the ridge of down, but its environs were not in
their prospect. The lower regions of the House had been gloomy enough,
but this bleak place with its drab outlook struck a chill to Sir
Archie's soul. He dolefully lit a cigarette.
"This is a pretty rotten show for you," he told her. "It strikes me as a
rather unpleasant brand of nightmare."
"I have been living with nightmares for three years," she said wearily.
He cast his eyes round the room. "I think the Kennedys were mad to build
this confounded barrack. I've always disliked it, and old Quentin hadn't
any use for it either. Cold, cheerless, raw monstrosity! It hasn't been
a very giddy place for you, Princess."
"It has been my prison, when I hoped it would be a sanctuary. But it may
yet be my salvation."
"I'm sure I hope so. I say, you must be jolly hungry. I don't suppose
there's any chance of tea for you."
She shook her head. She was looking fixedly at the Tower, as if she
expected something to appear there, and he followed her eyes.
"Rum old shell, that. Quentin used to keep all kinds of live stock
there, and when we were boys it was our castle where we played at bein'
robber chiefs. It'll be dashed queer if the real thing should turn up
this time. I suppose McCunn's Poet is roostin' there all by his lone.
Can't say I envy him his job."
Suddenly she caught his arm. "I see a man," she whispered. "There! He is
behind those far bushes. There is his head again!"
It was clearly a man, but he presently disappeared, for he had come
round by the south end of the House, past the stables, and had now gone
over the ridge.
"The cut of his jib is uncommonly like Loudon, the factor. I thought
McCunn had stretched him on a bed of pain. Lord, if this thing should
turn out a farce, I simply can't face Loudon.... I say, Princess, you
don't suppose by any chance that McCunn's a little bit wrong in the
head?"
She turned her candid eyes on him. "You are in a very doubting mood."
"My feet are cold and I don't mind admittin' it. Hanged if I know what
it is, but I don't feel this show a bit real. If it isn't, we're in a
fair way to make howlin' idiots of ourselves, and get pretty well
embroiled with the law. It's all right for the red-haired boy, for he
can take everything seriously, even play. I could do the same thing
myself when I was a kid. I don't mind runnin' some kinds of risk--I've
had a few in my time--but this is so infernally outlandish and I--I
don't quite believe in it. That is to say, I believe in it right enough
when I look at you or listen to McCunn, but as soon as my eyes are off
you I begin to doubt again. I'm gettin' old and I've a stake in the
country, and I daresay I'm gettin' a bit of a prig--anyway I don't want
to make a jackass of myself. Besides, there's this foul weather and
this beastly house to ice my feet."
He broke off with an exclamation, for on the grey cloud-bounded stage in
which the roof of the Tower was the central feature, actors had
appeared. Dim hurrying shapes showed through the mist, dipping over the
ridge, as if coming from the Garplefoot.
She seized his arm and he saw that her listlessness was gone. Her eyes
were shining.
"It is they," she cried. "The nightmare is real at last. Do you doubt
now?"
He could only stare, for these shapes arriving and vanishing like wisps
of fog still seemed to him phantasmal. The girl held his arm tightly
clutched, and craned towards the window space. He tried to open the
frame, and succeeded in smashing the glass. A swirl of wind drove
inwards and blew a loose lock of Saskia's hair across his brow.
"I wish Dougal were back," he muttered, and then came the crack of a
shot.
The pressure on his arm slackened, and a pale face was turned to him.
"He is alone--Mr. Heritage. He has no chance. They will kill him like a
dog."
"They'll never get in," he assured her. "Dougal said the place could
hold out for hours."
Another shot followed and presently a third. She twined her hands and
her eyes were wild.
"We can't leave him to be killed," she gasped.
"It's the only game. We're playin' for time, remember. Besides he won't
be killed. Great Scott!"
As he spoke, a sudden explosion cleft the drone of the wind and a patch
of gloom flashed into yellow light.
"Bomb!" he cried. "Lord, I might have thought of that."
The girl had sprung back from the window. "I cannot bear it. I will not
see him murdered in sight of his friends. I am going to show myself, and
when they see me they will leave him.... No, you must stay here.
Presently they will be round this house. Don't be afraid for me--I am
very quick of foot."
"For God's sake, don't! Here, Princess, stop," and he clutched at her
skirt. "Look here, I'll go."
"You can't. You have been wounded. I am in command, you know. Keep the
door open till I come back."
He hobbled after her, but she easily eluded him. She was smiling now,
and blew a kiss to him. "La, la, la," she trilled, as she ran down the
stairs. He heard her voice below, admonishing McGuffog. Then he pulled
himself together and went back to the window. He had brought the little
Holland with him, and he poked its barrel through the hole in the glass.
"Curse my game leg," he said, almost cheerfully, for the situation was
now becoming one with which he could cope. "I ought to be able to hold
up the pursuit a bit. My aunt! What a girl!"
With the rifle cuddled to his shoulder he watched a slim figure come
into sight on the lawn, running towards the ridge. He reflected that she
must have dropped from the high verandah wall. That reminded him that
something must be done to make the wall climbable for her return, so he
went down to McGuffog, and the two squeezed through the barricaded door
to the verandah. The boiler-house ladder was still in position, but it
did not reach half the height, so McGuffog was adjured to stand by to
help, and in the meantime to wait on duty by the wall. Then he hurried
upstairs to his watch-tower.
The girl was in sight, almost on the crest of the high ground. There she
stood for a moment, one hand clutching at her errant hair, the other
shielding her eyes from the sting of the rain. He heard her cry, as
Heritage had heard her, but since the wind was blowing towards him the
sound came louder and fuller. Again she cried, and then stood motionless
with her hands above her head. It was only for an instant, for the next
he saw she had turned and was racing down the slope, jumping the little
scrogs of hazel like a deer. On the ridge appeared faces, and then over
it swept a mob of men.
She had a start of some fifty yards, and laboured to increase it, having
doubtless the verandah wall in mind. Sir Archie, sick with anxiety,
nevertheless spared time to admire her prowess. "Gad! she's a miler," he
ejaculated. "She'll do it. I'm hanged if she don't do it."
Against men in seaman's boots and heavy clothing she had a clear
advantage. But two shook themselves loose from the pack and began to
gain on her. At the main shrubbery they were not thirty yards behind,
and in her passage through it her skirts must have delayed her, for when
she emerged the pursuit had halved the distance. He got the sights of
the rifle on the first man, but the lawns sloped up towards the house,
and to his consternation he found that the girl was in the line of fire.
Madly he ran to the other window of the room, tore back the shutters,
shivered the glass, and flung his rifle to his shoulder. The fellow was
within three yards of her, but thank God! he had now a clear field. He
fired low and just ahead of him, and had the satisfaction to see him
drop like a rabbit, shot in the leg. His companion stumbled over him,
and for a moment the girl was safe.
But her speed was failing. She passed out of sight on the verandah side
of the house, and the rest of the pack had gained ominously over the
easier ground of the lawn. He thought for a moment of trying to stop
them by his fire, but realised that if every shot told there would still
be enough of them left to make sure of her capture. The only chance was
at the verandah, and he went downstairs at a pace undreamed of since the
days when he had two whole legs.
McGuffog, Mannlicher in hand, was poking his neck over the wall. The
pursuit had turned the corner and were about twenty yards off; the girl
was at the foot of the ladder, breathless, drooping with fatigue. She
tried to climb, limply and feebly, and very slowly, as if she were too
giddy to see clear. Above were two cripples, and at her back the van of
the now triumphant pack.
Sir Archie, game leg or no, was on the parapet preparing to drop down
and hold off the pursuit were it only for seconds. But at that moment he
was aware that the situation had changed.
At the foot of the ladder a tall man seemed to have sprung out of the
ground. He caught the girl in his arms, climbed the ladder, and
McGuffog's great hands reached down and seized her and swung her into
safety. Up the wall, by means of cracks and tufts, was shinning a small
boy.
The stranger coolly faced the pursuers and at the sight of him they
checked, those behind stumbling against those in front. He was speaking
to them in a foreign tongue, and to Sir Archie's ear the words were like
the crack of a lash. The hesitation was only for a moment, for a voice
among them cried out, and the whole pack gave tongue shrilly and surged
on again. But that instant of check had given the stranger his chance.
He was up the ladder, and, gripping the parapet, found rest for his feet
in a fissure. Then he bent down, drew up the ladder, handed it to
McGuffog and with a mighty heave pulled himself over the top.
He seemed to hope to defend the verandah, but the door at the west end
was being assailed by a contingent of the enemy, and he saw that its
thin woodwork was yielding.
"Into the House," he cried, as he picked up the ladder and tossed it
over the wall on the pack surging below. He was only just in time, for
the west door yielded. In two steps he had followed McGuffog through the
chink into the passage, and the concussion of the grand piano pushed
hard against the verandah door from within coincided with the first
battering on the said door from without.
In the garden-room the feeble lamp showed a strange grouping. Saskia had
sunk into a chair to get her breath, and seemed too dazed to be aware of
her surroundings. Dougal was manfully striving to appear at his ease,
but his lip was quivering.
"A near thing that time," he observed. "It was the blame of that man's
auld motor-bicycle."
The stranger cast sharp eyes around the place and company.
"An awkward corner, gentlemen," he said. "How many are there of you?
Four men and a boy? And you have placed guards at all the entrances?"
"They have bombs," Sir Archie reminded him.
"No doubt. But I do not think they will use them here--or their guns,
unless there is no other way. Their purpose is kidnapping, and they hope
to do it secretly and slip off without leaving a trace. If they
slaughter us, as they easily can, the cry will be out against them, and
their vessel will be unpleasantly hunted. Half their purpose is already
spoiled, for it is no longer secret.... They may break us by sheer
weight, and I fancy the first shooting will be done by us. It's the
windows I'm afraid of."
Some tone in his quiet voice reached the girl in the wicker chair. She
looked up wildly, saw him and with a cry of "Alesha" ran to his arms.
There she hung, while his hand fondled her hair, like a mother with a
scared child. Sir Archie, watching the whole thing in some stupefaction,
thought he had never in his days seen more nobly matched human
creatures.
"It is my friend," she cried triumphantly, "the friend whom I appointed
to meet me here. Oh, I did well to trust him. Now we need not fear
anything."
As if in ironical answer came a great crashing at the verandah door, and
the twanging of chords cruelly mishandled. The grand piano was suffering
internally from the assaults of the boiler-house ladder.
"Wull I gie them a shot?" was McGuffog's hoarse inquiry.
"Action stations," Alexis ordered, for the command seemed to have
shifted to him from Dougal. "The windows are the danger. The boy will
patrol the ground floor, and give us warning, and I and this man,"
pointing to Sime, "will be ready at the threatened point. And for God's
sake no shooting, unless I give the word. If we take them on at that
game we haven't a chance."
He said something to Saskia in Russian and she smiled assent and went to
Sir Archie's side. "You and I must keep this door," she said.
Sir Archie was never very clear afterwards about the events of the next
hour. The Princess was in the maddest spirits, as if the burden of three
years had slipped from her and she was back in her first girlhood. She
sang as she carried more lumber to the pile--perhaps the song which had
once entranced Heritage, but Sir Archie had no ear for music. She
mocked at the furious blows which rained at the other end, for the door
had gone now, and in the windy gap could be seen a blur of dark faces.
Oddly enough, he found his own spirits mounting to meet hers. It was
real business at last, the qualms of the civilian had been forgotten,
and there was rising in him that joy in a scrap which had once made him
one of the most daring airmen on the Western Front. The only thing that
worried him now was the coyness about shooting. What on earth were his
rifles and shot-guns for unless to be used? He had seen the enemy from
the verandah wall, and a more ruffianly crew he had never dreamed of.
They meant the uttermost business, and against such it was surely the
duty of good citizens to wage whole-hearted war.
The Princess was humming to herself a nursery rhyme. "The King of
Spain's daughter," she crooned, "came to visit me, and all for the
sake----Oh, that poor piano!" In her clear voice she cried something in
Russian, and the wind carried a laugh from the verandah. At the sound of
it she stopped. "I had forgotten," she said. "Paul is there. I had
forgotten." After that she was very quiet, but she redoubled her labours
at the barricade.
To the man it seemed that the pressure from without was slackening. He
called to McGuffog to ask about the garden-room window, and the reply
was reassuring. The gamekeeper was gloomily contemplating Dougal's tubs
of water and wire-netting, as he might have contemplated a vermin trap.
Sir Archie was growing acutely anxious--the anxiety of the defender of a
straggling fortress which is vulnerable at a dozen points. It seemed to
him that strange noises were coming from the rooms beyond the hall. Did
the back door lie that way? And was not there a smell of smoke in the
air? If they tried fire in such a gale the place would burn like
matchwood.
He left his post and in the hall found Dougal.
"All quiet," the Chieftain reported. "Far ower quiet. I don't like it.
The enemy's no' puttin' out his strength yet. The Russian says a' the
west windies are terrible dangerous. Him and the chauffeur's doin' their
best, but ye can't block thae muckle glass panes."
He returned to the Princess, and found that the attack had indeed
languished on that particular barricade. The withers of the grand piano
were left unwrung, and only a faint scuffling informed him that the
verandah was not empty. "They're gathering for an attack elsewhere," he
told himself. But what if that attack were a feint? He and McGuffog must
stick to their post, for in his belief the verandah door and the
garden-room window were the easiest places where an entry in mass could
be forced.
Suddenly Dougal's whistle blew, and with it came a most almighty crash
somewhere towards the west side. With a shout of "Hold tight,
McGuffog," Sir Archie bolted into the hall, and, led by the sound,
reached what had once been the ladies' bedroom. A strange sight met his
eyes, for the whole framework of one window seemed to have been thrust
inward, and in the gap Alexis was swinging a fender. Three of the enemy
were in the room--one senseless on the floor, one in the grip of Sime,
whose single hand was tightly clenched on his throat, and one engaged
with Dougal in a corner. The Die-Hard leader was sore pressed, and to
his help Sir Archie went. The fresh assault made the seaman duck his
head, and Dougal seized the occasion to smite him hard with something
which caused him to roll over. It was Spidel's life-preserver which he
had annexed that afternoon.
Alexis at the window seemed to have for a moment daunted the attack.
"Bring that table," he cried, and the thing was jammed into the gap.
"Now you"--this to Sime--"get the man from the back door to hold this
place with his gun. There's no attack there. It's about time for
shooting now, or we'll have them in our rear. What in heaven is that?"
It was McGuffog whose great bellow resounded down the corridor. Sir
Archie turned and shuffled back, to be met by a distressing spectacle.
The lamp, burning as peacefully as it might have burned on an old lady's
tea-table, revealed the window of the garden-room driven bodily inward,
shutters and all, and now forming an inclined bridge over Dougal's
ineffectual tubs. In front of it stood McGuffog, swinging his gun by the
barrel and yelling curses, which, being mainly couched in the
vernacular, were happily meaningless to Saskia. She herself stood at the
hall door, plucking at something hidden in her breast. He saw that it
was a little ivory-handled pistol.
The enemy's feint had succeeded, for even as Sir Archie looked three men
leaped into the room. On the neck of one the butt of McGuffog's gun
crashed, but two scrambled to their feet and made for the girl. Sir
Archie met the first with his fist, a clean drive on the jaw, followed
by a damaging hook with his left that put him out of action. The other
hesitated for an instant and was lost, for McGuffog caught him by the
waist from behind and sent him through the broken frame to join his
comrades without.
"Up the stairs," Dougal was shouting, for the little room beyond the
hall was clearly impossible. "Our flank's turned. They're pourin'
through the other windy." Out of a corner of his eye Sir Archie caught
sight of Alexis, with Sime and Carfrae in support, being slowly forced
towards them along the corridor. "Upstairs," he shouted. "Come on,
McGuffog. Lead on, Princess." He dashed out the lamp, and the place was
in darkness.
With this retreat from the forward trench line ended the opening phase
of the battle. It was achieved in good order, and position was taken up
on the first-floor landing, dominating the main staircase and the
passage that led to the back stairs. At their back was a short corridor
ending in a window which gave on the north side of the House above the
verandah, and from which an active man might descend to the verandah
roof. It had been carefully reconnoitred beforehand by Dougal, and his
were the dispositions.
The odd thing was that the retreating force were in good heart. The
three men from the Mains were warming to their work, and McGuffog wore
an air of genial ferocity. "Dashed fine position I call this," said Sir
Archie. Only Alexis was silent and preoccupied. "We are still at their
mercy," he said. "Pray God your police come soon." He forbade shooting
yet awhile. "The lady is our strong card," he said. "They won't use
their guns while she is with us, but if it ever comes to shooting they
can wipe us out in a couple of minutes. One of you watch that window,
for Paul Abreskov is no fool."
Their exhilaration was short-lived. Below in the hall it was black
darkness save for a greyness at the entrance of the verandah passage;
but the defence was soon aware that the place was thick with men.
Presently there came a scuffling from Carfrae's post towards the back
stairs, and a cry as of some one choking. And at the same moment a flare
was lit below which brought the whole hall from floor to rafters into
blinding light.
It revealed a crowd of figures, some still in the hall and some half-way
up the stairs, and it revealed, too, more figures at the end of the
upper landing where Carfrae had been stationed. The shapes were
motionless like mannequins in a shop window.
"They've got us treed all right," Sir Archie groaned. "What the devil
are they waiting for?"
"They wait for their leader," said Alexis.
No one of the party will ever forget the ensuing minutes. After the
hubbub of the barricades the ominous silence was like icy water,
chilling and petrifying with an indefinable fear. There was no sound but
the wind, but presently mingled with it came odd wild voices.
"Hear to the whaups," McGuffog whispered.
Sir Archie, who found the tension unbearable, sought relief in
contradiction. "You're an unscientific brute, McGuffog," he told his
henchman. "It's a disgrace that a gamekeeper should be such a rotten
naturalist. What would whaups be doin' here at this time of year?"
"A' the same, I could swear it's whaups, Sir Erchibald."
Then Dougal broke in and his voice was excited. "It's no whaups. That's
our patrol signal. Man, there's hope for us yet. I believe it's the
polis."
His words were unheeded, for the figures below drew apart and a young
man came through them. His beautifully-shaped dark head was bare, and as
he moved he unbuttoned his oilskins and showed the trim dark-blue garb
of the yachtsman. He walked confidently up the stairs, an odd elegant
figure among his heavy companions.
"Good afternoon, Alexis," he said in English. "I think we may now regard
this interesting episode as closed. I take it that you surrender.
Saskia, dear, you are coming with me on a little journey. Will you tell
my men where to find your baggage?"
The reply was in Russian. Alexis' voice was as cool as the other's, and
it seemed to wake him to anger. He replied in a rapid torrent of words,
and appealed to the men below, who shouted back. The flare was dying
down, and shadows again hid most of the hall.
Dougal crept up behind Sir Archie. "Here, I think it's the polis.
They're whistlin' outbye, and I hear folk cryin' to each other--no' the
foreigners."
Again Alexis spoke, and then Saskia joined in. What she said rang sharp
with contempt, and her fingers played with her little pistol.
Suddenly before the young man could answer Dobson bustled towards him.
The innkeeper was labouring under some strong emotion, for he seemed to
be pleading and pointing urgently towards the door.
"I tell ye it's the polis," whispered Dougal. "They're nickit."
There was a swaying in the crowd and anxious faces. Men surged in,
whispered and went out, and a clamour arose which the leader stilled
with a fierce gesture.
"You there," he cried, looking up, "you English. We mean you no ill, but
I require you to hand over to me the lady and the Russian who is with
her. I give you a minute by my watch to decide. If you refuse my men are
behind you and around you, and you go with me to be punished at my
leisure."
"I warn you," cried Sir Archie. "We are armed, and will shoot down any
one who dares to lay a hand on us."
"You fool," came the answer. "I can send you all to eternity before you
touch a trigger."
Léon was by his side now--Léon and Spidel, imploring him to do something
which he angrily refused. Outside there was a new clamour, faces showing
at the door and then vanishing, and an anxious hum filled the hall....
Dobson appeared again and this time he was a figure of fury.
"Are ye daft, man?" he cried. "I tell ye the polis are closin' round us,
and there's no' a moment to lose if we would get back to the boats. If
ye'll no' think o' your own neck, I'm thinkin' o' mine. The whole
thing's a bloody misfire. Come on, lads, if ye're no' besotted on
destruction."
Léon laid a hand on the leader's arm and was roughly shaken off. Spidel
fared no better, and the little group on the upper landing saw the two
shrug their shoulders and make for the door. The hall was emptying fast,
and the watchers had gone from the back stairs. The young man's voice
rose to a scream; he commanded, threatened, cursed; but panic was in the
air and he had lost his mastery.
"Quick," croaked Dougal, "now's the time for the counter-attack."
But the figure on the stairs held them motionless. They could not see
his face, but by instinct they knew that it was distraught with fury and
defeat. The flare blazed up again as the flame caught a knot of fresh
powder, and once more the place was bright with the uncanny light....
The hall was empty save for the pale man who was in the act of turning.
He looked back. "If I go now, I will return. The world is not wide
enough to hide you from me, Saskia."
"You will never get her," said Alexis.
A sudden devil flamed into his eyes, the devil of some ancestral
savagery, which would destroy what is desired but unattainable. He swung
round, his hand went to his pocket, something clicked, and his arm shot
out like a baseball pitcher's.
So intent was the gaze of the others on him, that they did not see a
second figure ascending the stairs. Just as Alexis flung himself before
the Princess, the new-comer caught the young man's outstretched arm and
wrenched something from his hand. The next second he had hurled it into
a far corner where stood the great fireplace. There was a blinding sheet
of flame, a dull roar, and then billow upon billow of acrid smoke. As it
cleared they saw that the fine Italian chimneypiece, the pride of the
builder of the House, was a mass of splinters, and that a great hole had
been blown through the wall into what had been the dining-room.... A
figure was sitting on the bottom step feeling its bruises. The last
enemy had gone.
When Mr. John Heritage raised his eyes he saw the Princess with a very
pale face in the arms of a tall man whom he had never seen before. If he
was surprised at the sight, he did not show it. "Nasty little bomb
that. Time fuse. I remember we struck the brand first in July '18."
"Are they rounded up?" Sir Archie asked.
"They've bolted. Whether they'll get away is another matter. I left half
the mounted police a minute ago at the top of the West Lodge avenue. The
other lot went to the Garplefoot to cut off the boats."
"Good Lord, man," Sir Archie cried, "the police have been here for the
last ten minutes."
"You're wrong. They came with me."
"Then what on earth----?" began the astonished baronet. He stopped
short, for he suddenly got his answer. Into the hall from the verandah
limped a boy. Never was there seen so ruinous a child. He was dripping
wet, his shirt was all but torn off his back, his bleeding nose was
poorly staunched by a wisp of handkerchief, his breeches were in
ribbons, and his poor bare legs looked as if they had been
comprehensively kicked and scratched. Limpingly he entered, yet with a
kind of pride, like some small cock-sparrow who has lost most of his
plumage but has vanquished his adversary.
With a yell Dougal went down the stairs. The boy saluted him, and they
gravely shook hands. It was the meeting of Wellington and Blücher.
The Chieftain's voice shrilled in triumph, but there was a break in it.
The glory was almost too great to be borne.
"I kenned it," he cried. "It was the Gorbals Die-Hards. There stands the
man that done it.... Ye'll no' fickle Thomas Yownie."