BESIEGED
So desperate had been the struggle that they had forgotten the peril of
the drawbridge. Shots had already been fired in the courtyard but they
had not heard them. Now, as an awed silence fell upon them, at the
passing of Goritz and at their relief from immediate danger, they were
suddenly aware of the sounds of commotion outside near at hand, the
sharp crack of small arms, the cries of men and the booming of the
postern bell--calling Goritz--who would never come!
Renwick staggered to the window over the courtyard, Marishka's hand in
his, and peered out. Somewhere a great fire was burning, for overhead
the sky was copper-colored with its reflections, and below they saw
dimly two figures crouching in the shadow of the postern gate. As they
looked, three men emerged from the wall of the causeway, carrying a
timber with which they approached the abyss, but as they neared the edge
a flash darted from the postern and the foremost man fell. The others,
with a rush, tried to cast an end of the heavy plank across the
intervening space, but it fell short and went crashing down into the
void below.
"They may be able to hold out for a time," whispered Renwick, "long
enough to let us get away--come, Marishka--the ropes!"
He took the candle, and she opened the door into the corridor which led
to the keep. Outside they met the old woman Ena, who was crouched upon
the floor by a window, wringing her hands, half dead with fear. But she
started up at the sight of Renwick, who led the way, and then looked in
astonishment at Marishka.
"Who----?" she gasped, and paused.
"A friend, Ena," said Marishka. "Do not fear."
But she still regarded Renwick in terror, for his appearance,
disheveled, torn and bloody, was not one to inspire confidence.
"The Herr Hauptmann----!"
"He is dead," said Marishka quietly.
"Dead! _Herr Gott!_" And she shrank back into her corner, her head in
her hands.
But there was no time to delay. Renwick hurried Marishka down the stone
stairway to the Hall, whence they descended to a lower floor to the
storeroom.
It was filled with a conglomeration of dusty odds and ends, boxes,
barrels, bottles innumerable, the relics of the hospitality of Baron
Neudeck, but at first they could see no sign of what they were seeking.
Above them shots sounded intermittently, and the roar of the distant
battle never ceased. Renwick searched feverishly while Marishka held the
candle above his head, overturning the dusty objects, and at last with a
cry of triumph found what they sought, a coil of heavy rope in a far
corner. He dragged it forth and examined it carefully. It was heavy and
long. Was it long enough? There was no way of telling except by
measuring in yard lengths, and no time to risk that.
There had been a long interval of silence on the rampart above. Had
Windt succeeded in winning his way across?
He raised the coil of rope from his shoulder with an effort and took the
candle from Marishka's hand, moving toward an arch to their left,
seeking a direct way to the boarded door into the crypt. It should be in
this direction--yes, the wine cellar--here it was--the boarded
partition. Marishka took the candle from his hand again while he
examined the fastenings--nails somewhat rusted, which would not resist
leverage. He found a piece of plank which he inserted in the edge of the
door and managed to pry it open a little, and then bracing a foot
against the stone wall, made an opening wide enough to admit them.
So far, so well. They were within the crypt, but while Marishka waited,
Renwick pulled the partition back into place to hide their mode of
retreat if the gate above were taken. Then moving rapidly along the
tunnel they reached the steps which led to the watchtower, where Renwick
snuffed the candle; and they climbed, emerging at last among the ruins
with their precious rope. If they could get down they would crawl
through the bushes and undergrowth, making their way before daylight to
the house of the peasant who had sheltered him last night. Another sum
of money would secure their immunity--at least for the present.
To the northward, the sky was vividly aglow with the reflection of the
flames of a burning house--fired perhaps by the shells of the Russians,
which still seemed to be bursting not far away. And now their acrid
fumes were poisoning the clean night-wind from the north. Below them in
the valley they still heard the sounds of passing transport, and the
hoarse calls of men. The battle for the head of the Pass was
desperate--but with such reënforcements, the Austrians would hold it.
The crackle of small arms after a slight lull rose in intensity to a
continuous roar. And while Renwick was making the end of his rope fast
around a huge granite block, there was a tremendous explosion which
seemed to tear the bloody sky to tatters.
"A magazine or a mine," muttered Renwick.
She smiled at him bravely, and resumed her watch of the windows of the
castle. Here in the open, hidden from the courtyard beyond the bulk of
the buildings, they could hear nothing of what was passing at the
drawbridge gate. The silence seemed ominous. Had Windt's men succeeded
in bridging the gap? As yet there were no signs of light in the castle
windows, except the lurid reflections of the northern sky. But in any
event there was no time to spare. Renwick tied a large knot and a loop
in the end of the rope and then carefully lowered it over the northern
wall, measuring its length by his arms, as it went over. Fifty yards,
sixty, seventy, eighty--when it stretched taut. Eighty yards! Sick with
anxiety, he crawled upon his stomach to the edge of the precipice and
peered over into the abyss.
The rope swung like a giant pendulum from side to side. By the luminous
heavens he could just see the loop at its end--at least seventy feet
from the counterscarp. Seventy feet--or fifty or even twenty-five--for
Marishka sure death among the welter of jagged rocks below!
Slowly he rose and faced her. She read the truth in his dejection.
"The rope is too short," he muttered.
She caught him by the hand.
"I can climb down by----"
"No, no," he said in sudden horror, "it is not to be thought of. You, at
least, are safe."
"But you----?"
"Perhaps something may happen. We can at least hide in the wall. They
may not find us. Come."
He descended into the hole among the broken masonry and lowered Marishka
gently beside him, and there for a moment upon the stairs he held her in
his arms while they listened again for noise of pursuit along the dark
passage. Silence.
She drew his head down until their lips met.
"Your fate, Hugh--whatever it is--shall be mine."
He smiled in the darkness. A love like this was worth fighting for. "We
shall win--somehow," he whispered, "we must!"
Together slowly they retraced their steps to the crypt, where they
lighted the candle and listened again, and now, faintly above, they
heard the sound of a shot.
"They have not won through yet, Marishka," he said. "My cause is
Goritz's now. We must hold the gate."
"I am not afraid," she said. "We can still fight."
He looked at her pale face in admiration, for the fire of resolution
glowed in her eyes.
"Yes," he muttered grimly, "we can still fight." And then, "Are there
any weapons here?"
"In the armory--come!" And she led the way up the stair. But as they
searched the Hall, Ena hobbled down the stone stairway from above,
shrieking, and threw herself at their feet. They could not make out
what she said, but Renwick rushed to the door and peered out toward the
postern. Upon the flagging, a figure lay motionless, and the other man
was nowhere to be seen. But worse than that, as though aware of their
advantage, in the causeway beyond, several men were advancing, bearing
another timber. Renwick's eye appraised the situation hurriedly and he
planned quickly, for delay would be fatal. As he reloaded the clip of
his automatic he ordered quickly.
"Marishka, I have a plan. There are two joists at the foot of the
stair--not very heavy. You and Ena must bring them up here. Then get
what loaded weapons you can. Bring them here, too. Lose no time. I will
return."
And leaving her, he dashed out of the door, and running to the right
gained the protection of the rampart, behind which he crawled toward the
gate. Where was the other man, the chauffeur, Karl?
In a moment he learned. For as Renwick approached, the men upon the
other side succeeded in spanning the abyss, and one of them rushed over.
When the man was halfway across, a shot rang out from the gate and the
man on the board swayed and fell. Another followed and another shot rang
out, but the man still came on.
Renwick, running forward, shouted a word of encouragement. He saw the
man Karl rise from his concealment and meet the fellow just as he
reached the gate, striking him a blow which made him lose his balance
and fall. Then he swung the end of the timber free and it fell into the
gorge as he sprang back to safety, but before he reached the protection
of the gate, several flashes darted from the causeway and the chauffeur
staggered and dropped forward upon his face just as Renwick reached him.
"Your orders, Herr Hauptmann," he gasped. "But they're too many--my
cartridges--are gone----" He turned with a groan, and for the first time
saw Renwick's face. "You----" he muttered. "You're not----?"
"It doesn't matter who I am. Are you badly hurt?"
"_Donnerweiter!_ Yes--through the breast--I'm done for."
But Renwick stepped past him and found a loophole through which he could
watch what was passing upon the other side of the abyss.
The last disaster had robbed the besiegers of some of their enthusiasm,
for they had withdrawn to the other end of the causeway where they were
holding council. Searching the shadows of the wall for signs of any
others concealed near at hand, Renwick took the chance of leaving the
gate unguarded, and in the shadow of the wall rushed back to the Hall.
There he found Marishka with the two joists, waiting for him.
"They've withdrawn," he said, "but they'll be coming on again in a
moment. We are alone, dear, to defend the gate. Can you help?"
She was deathly pale, but she smiled at him bravely. He picked up the
two joists and carried them outside while she followed him, listening.
"You on one side of the gate, I on the other. If they succeed in
throwing a timber across, we must push it off. In this way neither of us
need expose ourselves."
"I understand--and there are rifles and shotguns."
"Good! Can you load them?"
"Strohmeyer loaded them while Karl kept the gate, but Ena was afraid to
take them out."
"Then bring them. You're quite safe if you keep below the wall of the
rampart. Now go, dear--and God bless you!"
He reached the gate before Windt's men returned to the attack, and put
one of his new weapons of defense upon each side of it. But he feared to
leave the gate again and crouched, waiting. Below in the valley the
commotion had increased and the sounds of firing went on unceasingly. It
seemed indeed, as Marishka had said, that the end of the world had come.
Beside him, the man Karl was breathing with difficulty. From his post at
the loophole, Renwick heard him mutter, and as the road was still clear,
he listened.
"You're Renwick--the Englishman?" he whispered hoarsely.
"I am."
"And Herr Hauptmann Goritz?"
"He is dead," replied Renwick.
"_Ach--danke_," said the man. "It is well then--you too--soon----"
He nodded forward, toppled sideways and lay still.
The situation was desperate, and yet as Renwick thought calmly, he
gained courage. With Marishka upon one side and him on the other armed
with the joists, it would be difficult for the attackers to get a
lodgment for their bridges, for the stone outside the gate was quite
smooth, and little effort would be required to push their timbers down.
Both Strohmeyer and Karl had lost their lives by exposing themselves
unnecessarily. But with the two joists, both sides of the gate could be
commanded. In a moment, creeping under the protection of the wall,
Marishka joined him, bringing two rifles.
"Are they coming?" she asked.
"Not yet. But they will soon."
He explained his plan more fully, then bade her go back for another
rifle, ammunition; and return in the protection of the opposite wall to
the post opposite.
"They can do nothing unless they bring artillery," he said confidently.
"Don't expose yourself or look out, but if a plank comes over, push it
down."
She smiled and slipped away into the darkness, and Renwick returned to
his loophole. The sky above was getting lighter, and a glance up the
mountain side to his left showed it already in clear profile against the
lightening east, which announced the coming of the dawn. And with the
dawn--light. Was this what the attackers were waiting for?
He saw the gray figure of Marishka creep along the opposite wall, and in
a moment she was there, not ten feet away at her post, crouched in
safety and waiting.
"On no account look through the loophole," he ordered. "As the light
grows, there will be men to shoot at them. Keep under cover.
Understand?"
She only laughed hysterically.
In a moment, as the light grew, he warned her that they were coming
again.
"Keep in," he cried. "Don't try to look at the end of the----"
The warning came just in time, for a fusillade of bullets swept the gate
and they heard the sounds of many men's voices as they came on the run.
Another fusillade which sent dust and fragments of stone flying all
about them! Then a timber crashed across, but before it settled into
place the two joists had pushed it off the smooth landing. At the same
time another volley was fired which would have surely found a mark if
Renwick had exposed himself, but Marishka matched her action to
Renwick's, crouching low, safe from observation, pole in hand, eagerly
watching her half of the gate.
Another timber--which fell harmlessly and crashed down into the gorge,
and another volley--alike harmless to the defenders. High hopes rose in
Renwick. They could do nothing. Opposite him Marishka, forgetting all
her fears, had caught the contagion of successful resistance and
crouched, her jaws set, eyes sparkling, her slender hands grasping the
rough timber, undaunted and resolute.
"Keep under cover----" he shouted, as another timber came across.
This one was better cast and lodged squarely upon the stone lintel. They
both shoved at its end, but a man's weight already upon it made their
task difficult.
"It is on my side. Push, Marishka!"
He aimed his automatic past the edge of the gatepost and shot the
man--an Austrian soldier--just as he sprang for the landing. He fell
upon the stone, hung to the timber a moment, and fell. Renwick sprang
further out and emptied his clip at the next man, who gave a cry and
dropped. Renwick felt a stinging blow on his left arm, but before
another man began to cross Marishka managed to shove the timber clear
and it fell into the abyss below.
They were safe for the moment. He looked at Marishka in the gathering
light. She was pale as death, but she did not show fear.
"All right?" he asked anxiously.
"Yes--yes," she gasped, "and you?"
"Never better."
His arm burned like a live coal, but the madness of battle was in his
blood and he did not care--so long as Marishka did not know of his
injury. The firing had ceased for the moment, as he crawled up and
peered through the loophole.
"We've beaten them, Marishka," he cried triumphantly. "They've gone
back--I see no timbers. They're doing something. I can see quite plainly
now--fastening a handkerchief to the muzzle of a rifle." And as she rose
to look, "Don't expose yourself. It may be a trick. For God's sake keep
down."
He picked up the magazine rifle beside him and thrust it through the
loophole, covering the two men who were advancing to the brink of the
abyss. In the pale light he marked the figure of Windt quite clearly.
The other man wore the uniform of an officer of Austrian infantry. And
now he heard the voice of the officer raised in parley.
"Schloss Szolnok--a truce!"
For reply Renwick thrust the muzzle of his rifle further through the
loophole.
"In the name of the Emperor of Austria, I command you to deliver Herr
Hauptmann Leo Goritz."
Renwick laughed madly.
"I regret that that is impossible."
"I beg that you will listen to reason. Austrian troops are all about
you. You cannot resist by daylight. If you will deliver the person of
Herr Hauptmann Goritz and Countess Strahni, we will leave you in peace."
Renwick paused. Far below in the valley to his right, a new sound broke
the stillness of the early morning--rifle-fire close at hand, rapid
volleys, and then a scattering of shots which echoed with a new
significance up the mountain side. He peered through one of the
crenelations of the rampart beside him and could just see through the
morning mists the moving mass of rushing men,--horses--guns in mad
confusion.
"Well, what is your reply?" came the voice of the Austrian officer.
Renwick laughed again.
"Why should you leave us in peace if you can take the drawbridge?" he
shouted.
"Hauptmann Goritz is wanted on the charge of murder. I give you this
chance. Will you take it?"
"I regret that it is impossible," replied Renwick.
"Why?"
"Because Herr Hauptmann Goritz is dead."
"Dead? What assurances can I have that this is the truth?"
"You have only to look at the foot of the cliff below."
The two men consulted for a moment and then Herr Windt's voice was
heard. "Is Countess Strahni there?"
"Yes--and quite safe."
"And who are you?"
"My name is Hugh Renwick, Herr Windt----"
"Renwick--the Englishman----" he heard him gasp.
"Precisely. And if you're going to take this gate, you'd better be in a
hurry about it--for the Russians are approaching."
"Then you refuse?"
"Positively."
The Austrian officer saluted, and the two men marched up the causeway.
Marishka, on the other side of the gate, had started up and was
regarding him anxiously.
"What you say, Hugh--it can't be that----"
"It's true, dear," he almost shouted. "The Russians. They're coming
below there in the valley. I have just seen. The Austrians are in full
retreat. The army has been retreating all night, and we thought there
were reënforcements. If we can hold out a short while longer, we will be
safe. Are you frightened?"
"No. Will they come again, you think?"
"Yes. They'll hardly give up so easily. But keep down, Marishka,
further--in the corner. You can see as well. Ah! I wasn't mistaken. Here
they come!"
Into the squad of Austrian soldiers advancing Renwick emptied the
magazine of his repeating rifle, and took up the other. Two men fell and
the remainder paused, only to be brought on by the Austrian officer who
led them, sword in hand. Renwick could have shot him easily, but he held
his fire and as the mass of men came on he saw them raise their rifles
to their shoulders.
"Keep down!" he shouted to Marishka, "they're going to----"
Dust and mortar flew from the ancient gate and behind in the castle,
windows crashed.
"You are safe?" he shouted.
"Yes," her voice replied.
"Now watch the gateway."
A plank came over, but profiting by their earlier experience, they
shoved it off before it came to rest. Another, a longer one, and
another, both of which found lodgment squarely between the gate posts.
Renwick sprang to the loophole; but the volley that followed spattered
harmlessly around him.
He was a good shot with a rifle, and aimed deliberately, dropping the
first man that put his foot on the hazardous bridge. Gasping with her
exertions Marishka pushed the shorter timber over, but the longer one
jammed hopelessly against the gate post.
"Hugh," she cried, "we are lost."
But a strange thing happened then. For as the second man approached the
bridge and had even put one foot upon it, a shrill call rang out at the
other end of the causeway.
"The retreat!" the officer shouted. "To the rear----"
The look of relief upon the face of the brave fellow who was venturing
death upon the precarious timber was reflected in Renwick's own heart,
for he spared the man who, with a startled glance over his shoulder,
presently caught up with the rapidly vanishing Windt. Renwick rushed out
and lifting the dangerous timber hurled it down into the gorge.
Then he caught Marishka by the waist and lifted her.
"We're safe, dear--they've gone----" he cried.
She turned one look up at him and then, slowly closing her eyes, sank
back helpless in his arms.
"Marishka! It has been too much----"
The blood flowed from a slight cut upon her cheek where she had been
struck by a piece of flying stone, but he saw that it was not deep. He
laid her gently upon the flagging, and ran to the Hall for water. There
he found Ena, crouched in a corner, more dead than alive. But he
commanded her to come and bring water and brandy, and she obeyed.
Marishka had only fainted and the brandy soon restored her.
"They've gone?" she asked of him.
"Yes, dear. We're quite safe. Listen. The Russians are driving them down
the valley."
He washed the wound in her cheek tenderly.
"It will not scar you, Marishka," he smiled. "But if it does--an
honorable scar such as no woman of Austria wears."
She touched it with her fingers and smiled.
"I did not even know----"
And then she saw the blood at his shoulder.
"You're hurt?"
"Only a scratch. It's nothing."
But weak as she was she tore away the sleeve of his shirt, and made him
bathe and bind it with linen from her skirt.
"Will the Russians come here, you think?" she asked.
He smiled.
"If they don't come to us," he said soberly, "we will go to them."
She smiled.
"'And your people shall be my people ... '" she murmured softly.
* * * * *
Galenski, Colonel of Russian cavalry, sat on his horse on a slight
eminence beside the road which descended from Dukla Pass into the valley
beyond, watching through a pair of field glasses the ramparts of an
ancient castle perched upon a crag.
Beside him his regiment streamed down the hill at a hand gallop, its
gray coats flapping, as it spread out fanwise in the meadow below, its
lances lightly poised in pursuit of the fleeing Austrians. As a company
captain passed he called out a name, and the officer, with a word to his
lieutenant, galloped up and saluted.
"Is not that Schloss Szolnok, Captain Kotchukoff?"
"Yes, sir. You remember--the affair of Baron Neudeck."
"Of course. I have been watching it, as we came down the road. Fighting
has been going on there for an hour or more."
"Fighting?"
"Yes. I don't understand. The Austrians were attacking it. I am certain
for I clearly made out the kepi of the infantry."
"That is strange."
"Is it possible that some of our advance posts could have occupied it?"
"I should say that that was impossible."
"We must investigate. Detach your company from the command and bring
your men up the road yonder. I will join you."
Captain Kotchukoff saluted, wheeled his horse and galloped at full speed
down the road into the meadow, while Colonel Galenski trotted slowly
down the hill until he found a ford in the stream, and then slowly rode
up the hill beyond.
"It is very strange," he muttered.
As he reached the road above, the company of Captain Kotchukoff came
riding up, but he gave the command to walk their horses, and slowly,
Colonel and Captain riding in front, they approached the end of the long
causeway which led to the castle. That he had not been mistaken in his
observations was clearly to be seen, for several men lay either dead or
severely wounded in the middle of the walled road. As they neared the
drawbridge three more prostrate figures were seen, one of them hanging
almost on the lip of the abyss.
The drawbridge was raised and beyond the gate another form lay beyond
the threshold. But as yet he saw no sign of life. Colonel Galenski
reined in his horse sharply, raised his hand, and behind him his captain
shouted the loud order to halt.
At the sound a man suddenly appeared in the gate, and beside him a very
beautiful young woman. Colonel Galenski was a good officer, but the
fact, though of no military importance, was quite clearly to be noted--a
very beautiful woman. The man beside the girl was tall, and bore himself
well. But he was covered with grime and dust and his clothing was torn
and streaked with blood. One sleeve of his shirt was missing, and his
bare arm was bandaged just below the arm-pit with a bloodstained cloth.
And as he looked, the man smiled and saluted.
Colonel Galenski returned the salute, and spoke in German.
"You will lower the drawbridge if you please. I wish to enter."
The man disappeared for a moment, the girl beside him, and presently,
with a loud clatter of rusty chains which made necessary some excellent
feats of horsemanship by the men of the company behind him, the
drawbridge crashed down, and Colonel Galenski rode forward through the
gate, followed by the company of horsemen, who wheeled by fours into
line and halted in the courtyard.
Colonel Galenski dismounted, neglecting no detail of the signs of
combat, the bullet-scarred flagging, the broken rock, the timbers, the
two figures lying in the shadow of the wall of the gate.
"From below, with my glasses, I saw the Austrians attacking your
drawbridge," he said. "There were many of them along the road. Your men
have well defended the position. Where are they?"
The tall man smiled and took the beautiful young woman by the hand.
"I beg to present you to my garrison," he said with a laugh. "Countess
Marishka Strahni--and--er----?"
"Colonel Galenski of the Fifth Regiment--horse," said the Colonel with a
bow. "And you, sir--who are you?"
The tall man extended a grimy hand to the immaculate Russian.
"I will tell you that, sir, if"--and he laughed--"if you'll give me a
cigarette."
IN REGARD TO THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE
If the reader of this book is not inclined to accept the _prima-facie_
evidence as presented in the newspapers from official sources with
regard to the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand and his wife, the
Duchess of Hohenberg, he is referred by the publishers to the very
interesting article by Mr. Henry Wickham Steed called "The Pact of
Konopisht," printed in the _Nineteenth Century_ for February, 1916. Mr.
Steed, as is well known, was for twenty years the correspondent in
Vienna of the _London Times_, and is also the author of the latest and
presumably the most authoritative work in English on the
Austro-Hungarian government and the House of Habsburg.
The facts presented in that article beginning with the open breach
between Franz Joseph and the Archduke on his marriage to Sophie Chotek;
the _entente_ between Kaiser and Archduke at Eckartzau and Potsdam; the
seizure of the Archduke's papers by the Austrian government after the
assassination; the instructions to the Sarajevo police from the military
authorities of Austria-Hungary to make no special arrangements for the
Archduke's protection; the fact that no evidence has ever been adduced
proving the complicity of the Serbian government; the funeral of the
Archduke and Duchess, at which no wreaths were sent by Emperor Franz
Joseph, by the Archduke's sister, or any member of the Austro-Hungarian
Imperial Family; the inadequacy of the formal arrangements for burial
and the obvious intention of the Court authorities to pay as little
honor as possible to the dead; the exclamation of the Kaiser, during
Kiel week when the news of the assassination was brought to him, "Now I
must begin all over again":--these facts must be considered as
circumstantial evidence of the most positive sort that the relations
between Archduke and Kaiser had been looked on with disfavor and
suspicion by the Imperial Family of Austria. What actually happened at
Konopisht of course will never be known, but there is strong presumptive
evidence that a pact of the character suggested in this story was made
in the rose garden of the castle and that Von Tirpitz was a witness to
it.
Whatever the police records show with regard to Cabrinovitz and Prinzep,
the former, who threw the bomb, the latter who did the killing, no
successful effort has been made to show that they were employed by the
Serbian government, nor is it probable that Serbia would have promoted a
plot which would give Austria Hungary a pretext for assailing her, a
pretext that Austria Hungary had already sought. The story of the
beginnings of the Great War has shown how she found it.
In the light of the ascertained facts concerning the production of
anti-Serbian forgeries employed by Austria during the annexation
crises of 1908-9, and exposed during the Friedjung trial of
December, 1909, it certainly would not be beyond the power of
Austro-Hungarian Secret Service agents to cook up a plot at
Belgrade or Sarajevo, were it considered desirable, for reasons of
Imperial policy, either to "remove" obnoxious personages or to
provide a pretext for war.
The dream of an empire from Hamburg to Saloniki is as yet a dream, but
that it was dreamed in Potsdam no one doubts.
* * * * *
Books by George Gibbs
The Secret Witness
Paradise Garden
The Yellow Dove
The Flaming Sword
Madcap
The Silent Battle
The Forbidden Way
The Bolted Door
Tony's Wife