THE FUSE
Wallace was totally unprepared for the reception that awaited him.
He had left the Monster unconscious, and bound as securely as it was
possible to bind anything. The door had been left half open, and it
remained so now. The torch was at its last gasp, and he had to shake
it to produce about as much illumination as a glow-worm would give. On
the threshold of the door it gave out completely.
“I’ve got some matches,” he whispered. “Possibly I can join up the
broken electric cable.”
He produced a box and struck a match on it. Immediately the flame
appeared there was a slight sound, followed by a dull thud, a groan
and hideous laughter.
“Ralph!” cried Yolande. “What----”
The place became brilliantly illuminated, and her startled eyes saw
Wallace lying on the floor, and the huge, monkish form standing over
him with a slab of wood in his hand. The look of triumph changed to
one of pleased surprise when he saw Yolande.
“Minna!” he rasped. “You’ve come back!”
“Don’t touch me--you brute!” she screamed.
His puzzled eyes blazed again as they fell upon the inert form of
Wallace. His feeling in that direction was fairly obvious. With an
inarticulate cry he produced his razor. She flew at him and seized his
arm.
“No--no!”
“You are foolish, Minna. We take no prisoners. We have no room for
them--and orders are orders.”
She realised that the only possible way to prevent another appalling
murder was to humour him. Love gave the fillip to her imagination, and
transformed her from a terror-stricken woman to a capable actress.
“Not yet,” she said. “He is a leader; we must keep him for a while.
Later, perhaps--but not now--not now.”
“The swine is dangerous.”
“Oh, no--he is unconscious.”
“Then I will bind him--as he did me. He thinks himself clever, but I
am cleverer. Thought I was stunned. Ha! Ha!”
He handled the rope like an expert, and very soon Wallace was sitting
in the corner, helpless. Recovering from the blow on the head, he
opened his eyes and bit his lip to realise the state of affairs. He
was about to talk to Yolande, but she put her finger to her lips.
“Minna, you must be hungry. It was foolish to wander in the galleries.
We will eat,” said the maniac.
He slouched across the chamber, glaring horribly at Wallace as he
passed him. The removal of a cloth exposed a cold fowl, taken
undoubtedly from the pantry during the night. He was about to carve it
when there was a low booming sound from a distance, and the earth
shook. The awful eyes opened wide, and the chicken was pushed away.
“Guns! At last they come--at last!”
He became as active as a cat, running from door to door and bolting
them with a wild laugh. Then he carried case after case across the
room and built two barricades. From a corner he took a Mauser rifle
and commenced to clean it.
“To the last man,” he said. “Orders are orders.”
Yolande watched him insert a clip of cartridges into the rifle, with
his face twisted in unearthly excitement. That done, he laid the rifle
down, and dug out some more gear from under a tarpaulin. She turned
her face to Wallace and saw his lips frame the word “Unload.” Waiting
until the lunatic was carrying a curious keg with his back towards
her, she quickly opened the breach of the rifle and extracted the
cartridges. Her next intention was to free Wallace, but the crazy
creature gave her no opportunity.
“Be brave, Minna,” he said. “All is prepared. They shall never have
the château.” He patted the rifle. “Eight lives there, but I have a
little surprise--after that. Hee! Hee! It will make them jump. Look!”
He suddenly produced a six-feet length of tubular stuff that looked
like thick string. Yolande had no idea what it was, but Wallace knew,
and his eyes bulged from his head.
“A fuse!”
“Silence--you!” snarled the lunatic. “I should have cut your throat
but for Minna. She hates bloodshed.”
“What is that?” queried Yolande.
“The little ally that will beat the enemy. But you need not worry,
Minna. There will be no pain. Poof!--and then nothing--just nothing!”
He laughed devilishly, and, running across to the big keg, fitted the
end of the fuse into it.
“Melinite!” he said. “I saved it for them. Ha! Ha!”
Her face blanched as she realised his intention. But she thought there
was no immediate danger. By some means or other she had to outwit
him--to set Wallace free and get out of this evil den.
“I’m thirsty,” she complained. “Get me some water, please.”
“Yes--yes. We have wine.”
He managed to find a bottle, but it was empty.
“I’ll get another. Minna must not go thirsty.”
She thought he was going, but he changed his mind at the last moment
and shook his head.
“They are outside. It would not do.”
“No one is there.”
“I know better. My ears are keen. But you can trust me, Minna. They
shall never take us alive.”
He snatched up the rifle, and looked, not towards the door that led
through the vaults, but at the other exit. Yolande started, for she
suddenly heard noises in that direction. The lunatic grinned, and put
his finger to his lips.
“I told you so,” he whispered hoarsely. “But they do not know--the
poor fools!”
There came a banging on the door, followed by heavier noises, as if a
battering-ram was being used. But the stout bolt still held, although
the timbers creaked. A brief silence, and then a tremendous thud. The
bolt snapped and the door bulged inward, bringing down several boxes
from the barricade. Another violent blow forced a passage, and into
the light stepped Niels, followed by Walther and Heinrich, with Bertha
bringing up the rear. The lunatic crouched low and brought the barrel
of the rifle to bear upon Niels.
“Come!” he said. “Come to death--swine!”
“Look out, Niels!”
The warning cry came from Heinrich, and Niels, who was temporarily
surprised by the presence of Wallace and Yolande, skipped aside. A
click came from the rifle.
“It’s not loaded,” cried Yolande. “But take care.”
The crazy man had opened the breach, and realised in a second that
something was wrong, though he did not appear to suspect Yolande.
Quickly he struck a match and lighted the end of the fuse. Then he
stood up and swung the rifle by the barrel. Yolande ran to put her
foot on the travelling light, but he pushed her backwards.
“We are doomed,” she cried. “If----”
It was then that Niels showed his mettle. He made a lightning leap at
the big, obstructing form, and missed the murderous swing of the
rifle.
“Come, Heinrich!” he called.
Before Heinrich and Walther could get across, the fuse had burnt close
to the big canister of explosive. Yolande was awakened from her mental
paralysis. She leapt by the struggling forms and pulled the fuse away
from the deadly explosive. When she turned round the three male
intruders were engaged in a fearful struggle with the madman. Twice
Walther had the rope round the enormous arms, and twice the fiend
broke loose again, dealing frightful blows with hands and feet. In the
background was Bertha, as pallid as death.
“Got him!” cried Heinrich. “Hold on!”
The rope was twisted round the arms and body of the conquered
creature, and Walther held it from behind, whilst the other two men
held an arm each above the binding.
“March!” said Niels.
“It’s--terrible!” almost sobbed Bertha.
“Quick--through the passage!”
They made their exit with their captive uttering awful cries and
struggling fruitlessly. The door slammed, and Yolande sat down and
held her head.
“Yolande!”
She suddenly remembered Wallace, and with a gasp cut his bonds with a
knife.
“Queer!” he muttered.
“I don’t understand. What was that?”
Now the opposite door was being attacked noisily, and in a few seconds
the keen blade of an axe smote through the panel.
“Fouchard!” said Wallace. “It must be.”
He ran to the pile of boxes, and dragged them away after unbolting the
door. Fouchard entered with Conrad.
“I had to come,” said Conrad. “What----”
His eyes fell on Yolande, and he gripped her hand warmly.
“What has happened here?” grunted Fouchard.
“They’ve got him--just now.”
“Who?”
“Niels and the others. They came in in the nick of time. But now----”
Fouchard ran to the other door and shone a torch down the passage.
“Does that lead to the mine?” he snapped.
“It must.”
“Then we can get them by going the other way. By Jove, the whole lot
in one swoop! Come on!”
The whole party then moved up the passage and on through the vault.
Fouchard bolted and barred the door at that end, and set a gendarme to
guard it.
“I must go with Fouchard,” whispered Wallace to Yolande. “You must
rest and refresh yourself. I will be back soon.”
“I’m coming too,” said Conrad. “I’m not going to miss this--if it
kills me.”
The Bentley was just outside the main entrance, and the three men
entered it, Wallace taking the wheel. In less than two minutes they
halted close to the old mine. Like hounds they went through the trees
until they stood on the site of the excavation.
“It is impossible for them to have arrived,” said Fouchard. “I may be
glad of your help, gentlemen.”
“Suppose they fight?” asked Conrad.
“God help them if they do,” grunted Fouchard. “I shall shoot the first
man who shows a gun.”
“There’s a lot about this affair that puzzles me,” said Wallace. “That
madman with the razor would insist upon calling Yolande Minna. It was
only that delusion on his part which saved her from her father’s
fate.”
“Was it he who tied you up?”
“Yes. He was going to slit my throat when Yolande brought her queer
influence to bear on him. We had a narrow shave. He had a big canister
of high explosive, and meant to blow the château sky-high. The
unexpected intervention of Niels prevented that.”
“S-sh!” warned Fouchard. “I don’t want them to hear you.”
“But they must know we are here,” argued Conrad. “It is obvious we
should attempt to hold them up. I’ll warrant----”
“You forget that they left Wallace tied up, and they probably knew I
was away, and that you were laid up in bed--where you ought to be at
this moment. It was their last chance, and they took it. They may
expect opposition from Wallace--but there are three of them, not to
mention Bertha.”
“And the Monster--is he a confederate?”
“You wouldn’t have said so if you saw the way they handled him,” put
in Wallace. “And he did his best to brain Niels with the butt end of a
rifle. Whatever it is they all want, they are at loggerheads. That
poor devil is hopelessly mad. I don’t believe he wants
anything--except Minna. He talked rubbish all the time I was there,
and acted as if----”
“S-sh!” hissed Fouchard. “I heard a noise.”
They crouched behind a heap of debris close to the exit, and very soon
a figure emerged. It was Niels, and he looked around cautiously.
Fouchard, who was nearest, stepped forward and levelled his pistol.
“One word and I shoot,” he said.
Niels’s reply was to kick the pistol from Fouchard’s hand and perform
a disappearing trick that was worthy of Devant.
“_Sacré!_”
“He has gone to warn the others,” said Wallace. “What do we do next?”
Fouchard picked up his pistol ignominously.
“The little rat!” he grunted. “Unless we ferret them out they will
stay there until dark, and make my task more difficult. I’m not going
to wait. I can’t afford to.”
“You’re going down?”
“Yes.”
“I’m with you,” said Wallace. “Connie, hadn’t you better wait for us
at----”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” retorted Conrad. “I’m going to be in at the
finish. We shall need a light down there.”
“My pocket-torch has burnt out, but I have a good Helleson lamp in the
car. I’ll get it.”
He was back in a few minutes, with the lamp in his hand. Warily they
entered the mine.