11:  We Enter the Hunting-Lodge

We had the servants in and held a council of war.

“There can be no doubt,” said Mansel, “that the Duchess of Varvic has been decoyed from Salzburg and is by now either at the castle or at the hunting-lodge. But I don’t care where she is, for we’re going to get her out. Up to now, as you know, we have never shown our teeth; yet we’ve done what we liked with the brutes. So now we shall go all out and shall make an end of them.

“I think we should try the lodge first, for the lodge is easy of access, but the castle is not. Does anyone think otherwise?”

Nobody did.

“Very well. Now we can hardly surprise them, for they will be waiting for us: but they will expect some warning of our approach. That warning I propose to deny them: indeed I propose to mislead them, so far as I can.

“Early yesterday morning Carson and I inspected one of the paths which the Duke had made – a path running through the woods on the southern side and into the piece of country we know so well. Sure enough there’s a trap on that path: and we’ve marked the spot where it lies with luminous paint. To make sure of missing the trap, look out for a tree on the left which we marked with a cross: leave the path and pass to the left of that tree: as you pass it, you’ll see another, marked with a ring: pass to the left of that, too, and then return to the path.

“By using this path we shall deny them warning of our approach, for the path won’t be watched or guarded, except by the trap.

“Now how do we reach the path? We can, of course, reach it by leaving the car at Four Mile Point as usual and crossing the fields. But that will take a long time. And so I suggest that we all get into the Rolls and come down from the north…past the mouth of the drive and apparently on after that. In fact we shall stop half a mile from the mouth of the drive. There five of us will alight and enter the fields, and ten minutes later we shall be treading the path. Carson will take the Rolls on and berth her at Four Mile Point and will then make his way to join us as fast as ever he can. The sentry at the mouth of the drive will see us go by and will doubtless report this occurrence. And I don’t think they’ll know what to make of it. To be perfectly honest, I know that I shouldn’t myself.

“Well, that’s the best I can do. But, if it turns out as I hope, at least we shall reach the forecourt before they know we are there. And that should be a great help. Further than that I can’t go, for not until we are there can we see what’s what. But tonight, if you please, we shall take no chances at all. These fellows are out for blood, so I’m going to shoot at sight and you’d all better do the same.”

Ten minutes later the Rolls was upon the road.

 

It was a quarter to nine when the five of us entered the woods surrounding the hunting-lodge. Mansel was leading and I brought up the rear, so I had but to follow the others to miss the trap; but the luminous paint showed well and, had I been alone, by observing Mansel’s directions I could have reached the forecourt without mishap.

That I was more than uneasy, I here most frankly confess. I could not get away from the fact that we were about to do exactly as the enemy wished; we had watched him work to this end and had smiled in our sleeve: and now here we were about to play into his hands. We had, of course, no choice, for the Duchess had to be saved at any cost: in other words, our hand had been forced: but, because of this, we were going against our judgment and flying in the face of the warning which China gave. Worst of all, I was sure that we were to try a fall with something far more dreadful than blackguard flesh and blood, with some abomination which could not be seen, upon whose domain we were about to trespass against such orders as Instinct seldom gives. Still, there was nothing for it. I had very little doubt that Mansel and George were beset by the same foreboding and were determined to put its endeavours to shame: and so I took hold of myself, cursed my imagination and forced the whole of my mind to the business in hand.

Thanks to the path, we were able to move in silence, yet at a fair speed, and before very long I was able to see ahead the glow of some light. As I had expected, this came from the open door of the hunting-lodge.

All was quiet in the forecourt: indeed, all seemed the same as when we had seen the place three nights before. Only the hall was lighted, and the doorway stood out of the darkness – a tall rectangle of luminance, rather than light.

Mansel was whispering.

“Mr Chandos comes with me; the others stay here.”

Together we moved like shadows towards the steps…

By one consent, we made for the wall of the house, one upon either side of the open door: and when we had gained the wall, we turned to the steps. These were four in number and very low: they were kept by no balustrade, but were splayed as they descended, so that the bottom step was twice the length of the top. Since the latter was longer than the sill, it was easy to crawl to their head, yet keep clear of the open door: and this was what we did. And then we looked over the sill and into the hall.

All was as Mansel had found it, three nights before. The only lamp was hanging above the staircase right at the farther end. Broad and low, the stairs led up to a landing which would have accepted a dance-band, piano and all; from there, as Mansel had reported, two flights of stairs ran up and into archways on either side. But tonight there was something else – something which had not been there three nights before. Hanging over the balustrade was the coat with the fine, fur collar which the Duchess of Varvic had worn when I saw her last.

I glanced at Mansel for instructions, but he was lying quite still, looking down the hall.

Forecast emerged from the archway up on the right, passed down the stairs to the landing and then up the other flight which led to the left. His arm was still in splints and he seemed to be growing a beard. After a moment or two, he reappeared with Auger. That the latter was in high spirits was easy to see. He was laughing and rallying Forecast, who looked very black, and he minced down the steps, pretending to be some great lady, flirting her fan. As he passed, he picked up his mistress’ coat, flung it over his shoulders and strutted to and fro on the landing, alternately ogling Forecast and rocking with silent laughter at his own drollery. And then Cain appeared from the archway up on the right.

If Forecast looked black, the look on Cain’s face was plainly murderous. That awful smile was still there, as though to mock the glare that burned in his eyes: but his face, no longer a mask, seemed the very seat of hatred and savage enmity. That the man had spoken with Biretta, I did not have to be told. He knew what had happened. He knew that his race was run. And his one idea was to wreak the most horrid vengeance on the men who had brought him low.

I could not hear what he said, but he spat out some scathing comment upon the revolting performance which Auger was giving below. The German took this badly and made some offensive reply, perhaps because he knew how his master treated Cain: still he took the coat from his shoulders and put it back where it had been, upon the balustrade, and then, with a very ill grace, he mounted the flight with Forecast and followed Cain, who had gone the way he had come.

Mansel was by my side.

“Now,” he breathed, “is our chance to get up those stairs. I’m going to get the others. We shall, all four, go in, but you must stay here, out of sight. I’m sure there are doors in the tapestry up at this end of the hall. There may be peep-holes, too. And I should think their idea is to let us get to the stairs and then come in behind us and mop us up. If they try that, open fire, and we shall know where we are; but until I hear a shot, I shan’t worry about our rear.”

With that, he was gone – to be back in less than two minutes with George and Rowley and Bell.

“Any more movement, William?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Good. Once we are in, you can come a little closer, for I want you to see as much as you can of the hall: but don’t go over the sill. And don’t forget that now you have no one behind you – except the enemy.”

With that, he lifted his hand, and the four rose up together, passed through the doorway and ran a-tip-toe for the stairs…

They were halfway down the hall, when, with no warning whatever, they disappeared…and not only they, but the hall and everything.

As I live, I am telling the truth.

I was lying there watching, with my eyes just above ground level and my chin just touching the sill of the open door. And one moment they were crossing the hall… And the next there was no hall…no hall, no staircase, no light – the lot were gone.

As though by some stage magic, a transformation of scene had taken place. The scene which I had been watching had disappeared, and nothing, except pitch darkness, had taken its place. Yes, something else. A wave of well-damp air, foetid and noisome, the very breath of corruption, broke on my face, and I knew, though I could not see, that I was lying on the brink of some deep and terrible pit. A rumbling, slithering sound came to my ears…

I think the hair rose upon my head.

So for perhaps ten seconds…twenty, perhaps…I cannot swear to the time.

And then the foul breath of corruption rose to a breeze…to a blast…I remember, I quailed before it: and, as I quailed, directly under my nose there came a thunderous crash…and there was the hall before me…hall and light and staircase, as they had always been. There was no mistake about it.

Cain and Forecast and Auger were standing above the landing, at the top of the flight of stairs which ran to the right. Cain was smiling, Auger was pointing and laughing, and Forecast had a hand to his mouth. But the hall was empty. Mansel and George and the servants had disappeared.

I despair of describing my emotions.

For a moment I wondered if I had lost consciousness – if the things I have just related belonged to some awful dream, for indeed they were of the stuff of which nightmares are made. And then I knew it was true…that Cain and the German were gloating over their triumph…gloating over the fact that Mansel and George and the servants had been – swallowed up.

To say that I was shaken means nothing. In body and mind I had been profoundly shocked. I felt very sick of my stomach and grievously sick at heart. Indeed, I felt very faint; and had I been standing, I should, I think, have had to sit down. As it was, I laid my forehead against the stone of the sill. It was then that I found that I was trembling…

How what had happened had happened, I could not tell. I supposed some trap had been laid. And China’s words kept hammering on my heart – But if you go in, you’ll never come out alive.

Strangely enough, it was the enemy that lugged me out of the depths and set my feet on the ground.

Auger was shouting for Hans, and the sound of his voice cleared my brain.

I had seen what happened, and I was safe and sound. I must wait and watch and make the most of my wits; and then, when Carson came, he and I together would save the others if they were still to be saved, and, if they were not, would take such a vengeance upon Cain and Saul and their fellows as would make them curse the days on which they were born.

Indeed, from being confounded and, so to speak, knocked out, I became strong of body and cool of mind: my brain seemed ice-cold and I felt I had the strength of two men. Of such is the lust for vengeance, for I had next to no hope that Mansel and George and the servants were yet alive.

“Hans,” shouted Auger. “Hans!”

I lay still as death, with my eyes just above the sill.

I heard a man enter the hall.

I could not see him enter, for the entrance was out of my sight: but he came from the left, and as he passed into my view, I heard the thud of a door. This showed that the door was self-closing – that is to say, was controlled by a heavy spring.

With his back to me, he walked towards the staircase – but not very far. He stopped, I should say, a third of the way down the hall. I recognized him at once. It was the burly foreman, whom Mansel and I had watched adjusting the traps.

Cain spoke up.

“Did the signal light go out?”

Auger translated his words, and the foreman replied.

“No. It is still alight.”

“So much for your sentries,” sneered Cain. “How many of the English went down?”

“Four or five – we cannot be certain which.”

“Why not?”

“We had no warning. The signal light was still on. But Kleiner got to the peep-hole just in time.”

“Just too late, you mean.”

“In time to see there were four and possibly five.”

I saw Cain finger his chin.

Then—

“Get back to your post,” he said. “The others will come.”

The Foreman hesitated.

“It occurs to me,” he said, “ that the sentries may have been hurt.”

“Serve them right,” snapped Cain.

“I propose to leave Kleiner here and take Boll to the mouth of the drive.”

“What for?”

The foreman spread out his hands.

“The sentries,” he said, “may be at the point of death.”

“What if they are?”

“One is my son,” said the foreman.

“I can’t help that. They have failed in their duty. Get back to your post.”

Auger did not translate this, but argued with Cain. I do not know what they said, but apparently Cain gave way, for Auger addressed the foreman who nodded his head. As he turned, I sank out of sight. But I heard him cross the hall and then the thud of the door. And when again I lifted my head, Auger had left the others, had crossed the landing and was mounting the opposite flight.

That was as much as I saw, for if I was right and Hans and Boll were to leave for the mouth of the drive, I must be gone before they came to the door. And so I withdrew to the right, slipped off the edge of the steps and lay down against the wall.

Except to join forces with Carson, I had, of course, no plan. Since the odds were six to one, until Carson came I dared not launch an attack. But the enemy had no idea that I was at hand, and I meant to take advantage of any opening he gave. It was now just half-past nine, and Carson could hardly arrive before ten o’clock. Still, if Kleiner was alone in the guardroom…

And there I heard Auger’s voice.

The man was not shouting from the staircase: he was talking and laughing somewhere, quite close at hand. And then again I heard the thud of a door.

At once I saw what had happened.

When Auger had argued with Cain, he had suggested that Hans should be suffered to go and that, whilst he was out of the guardroom, he (Auger) should take Hans’ place.

Sure enough, almost at once, Hans and Auger and Boll emerged from the hall.

Now almost all I had witnessed since Mansel had disappeared, goes, I think, to show what very poor soldiers the enemy would have made. All the calling and bawling for Hans, the questions and answers shouted across the hall and now all this talking and laughing at the head of the steps – these things were so much folly, when one or two of us remained to be trapped. I can only suppose that they were intoxicated with their success – which was, indeed, handsome enough – and were now so sure of themselves that they felt they could afford to take risks. Auger should have known better; but he was the worst of them all. Some people will never learn.

Hans and Boll said nothing, but Auger went laughing and talking down the steps: and, when the two had left him, he did not turn back, but stood, with his hands in his pockets, looking the way they had gone and whistling under his breath.

He never heard me rise and step to his side…

It was no time for niceties – there was too much at stake.

With all my might, I hit him with the butt of my pistol behind the ear, and, as his knees sagged, I caught him and picked him up. I cannot think what he weighed, but I managed to get him out of the forecourt and round to the side of the house, and there I laid the man down to die when he pleased; for I knew how hard I had hit and that, though he might live for an hour, he never would move again.

So much I had done on impulse. But now I stood still for a moment, and thought very hard.

Twenty or twenty-five minutes would pass before Hans returned. Then Auger would be missed and the hunt would be up. Meanwhile the man called Kleiner was in the guardroom alone. The trouble was he had his eye to the peep-hole…

And then I saw what I must do.

Auger had been wearing a hat. When I struck him, this had fallen, but I had managed to catch it and carry it off with him. I sought for this and found it and put it on. And then I made my way back to the foot of the steps.

I had not all Auger’s inches, but I am not a small man and, as I have said before, the light at this end of the hall was very dim. So I put my hands in my pockets, assumed the German’s demeanour, and sauntered up the steps and into the hall…

Now the instant I entered the hall, I knew that the floor was not fixed. It was solid enough, but there was a ghost of a tremor, such as you may feel in a ballroom, the floor of which has been slung. Still, I knew it was safe to tread, for Hans and Auger and Boll had been by this way.

A glance at the staircase showed me that there was nobody there.

Still strolling and humming aloud, I turned to the left, but to my dismay I could see no sign of a door. Mansel was right – it was cut in the tapestry. I walked as slow as I dared and went so far as to dance a pace or two – all to gain time, of course, for my eyes were raking the wall for any sign of a cut.

And then something caught the light…

The door-handle was of cut glass, and, as I danced to the right, one of its facets had rendered a sullen gleam.

I was just about to grasp it, when Kleiner played into my hands.

No doubt, because of his position, Auger was feared. Five nights ago the sentry had called him ‘Sir.’ And so Kleiner thought it expedient to save the fellow trouble and open the door. And since it would close on its own, Kleiner held the door open, for me to pass in. Everything indeed was against him, for I was in the darkness, but he in the light.

I clenched my fist and hit him as hard as I could.

It was a clumsy blow, for I hit him full in the face, instead of under the jaw; but, as luck would have it, he was standing against the jamb – and that was of stone. So the back of his head met the stone, and once again I had a body to catch.

I laid him down in a corner, and glanced at my watch.

Twenty-two minutes to nine. And Hans and Boll would be back in a quarter of an hour. And Carson…

I gave myself ten minutes to see what I could.

The room was small, but high-pitched. I would have said that it was an ante-room. The window was shrouded with blankets. A slow fire burned in a grate, beside which were the watchman’s chairs. On a table in the corner was burning the signal lamp. On a hook on the wall an acetylene lamp was hanging, to light the room. There were three doors – one by which I had entered; another opposite that; and a third, which was slightly open, facing the window – that is to say, on my right, as I had come in.

This third door had been cut in the panelling, and when it was closed, you would not have known it was there. It was clear that this was the door by which Auger had entered the room when he had come down from the stairs, for the other door could not have been opened unless the signal-lamp’s table had first been moved.

I set the third door wide, to see where it led.

All was dark and I ventured to use my torch.

The doorway admitted to a passage, not six feet wide – a passage all of stone, running as straight as it could by the side of the hall. But the passage was lower than the hall by at least three feet, for, from where I stood, a short flight of steps ran down.

With another glance at my watch, I passed down the steps…

I had taken four or five paces, when on the right of the passage, I found a recess, such as you see in tunnels into which a man may retire upon the approach of a train. In this recess had been planted a massive crutch or cradle of solid iron. This was some two feet six or three feet high and was bearing the end of a giant, steel spindle, which was itself protruding out of a hole in the wall. Both spindle and cradle were fairly plastered with grease, some of which had been lately added, as a tin of grease, newly opened, most plainly showed.

For a moment I stared at these things, remembering the others’ disappearance and the tremor I had felt in the floor. And then in a flash I knew that I had the truth of the matter between my hands – that I had conducted myself behind the scenes and was at this moment regarding the cruel and treacherous device by which he who had built the lodge had been used to rid himself of his unsuspecting guests.

The floor of the hall was in fact a limited see-saw – that is to say, it pivoted on a spindle, just as a see-saw does – with this one difference, that the staircase end could fall, but could not rise, while the other end could rise – but could not fall.

It was, doubtless, perfectly balanced, so that the instant a man passed beyond the centre, and so found himself nearer to the staircase than he was to the door, his weight would tip the scale and would bring down his half of the floor, while the other half would rise up. Since the floor was so highly polished, the victim would have no chance: he was bound to fall or slide forward, thus actually sealing his doom, for the farther he went, the sharper, because of his weight, the tilt would become, until at last the floor from having been horizontal would become vertical and he would simply fall headlong into the depths below. And then, relieved of his weight, his end of the floor would rise up, while the other fell down, thus locking him into his prison, for what that was worth.

There could be no doubt about it.

This was the dreadful way which Mansel and George and Rowley and Bell had taken: it was the weight of their bodies which had lifted my end of the floor, thus hiding the hall from my eyes and revealing the awful depths of that noisome pit: here was the explanation of the tremor which I had felt when I entered the hall; and here the reason why Hans had kept his distance, when he had stood in the hall, conversing with Cain.

And then I remembered the ‘rumbling, slithering sound’…the sound I had heard when everything had gone black…

I knew now what had made that sound – and the palms of my hands grew wet…

Then something occurred to me.

I had found that the floor was a trap and I knew how it worked. But a floor which was always a trap would be inconvenient indeed. And in this particular case it would be absurd to suppose that the hall could never be used except by those whom Varvic proposed to destroy. This being so, there must be a locking device, so that the hall could be used – by the sheep as well as the goats. And the locking device would be at the staircase end.

I hastened along the passage, still using my torch.

The passage ran into a chamber, some twelve feet square. On the left rose a flight of stone steps, and on the right I saw the locking device. This was most simple.

A steel beam or girder had been let into the wall, as a safe is let into a wall: but whereas a safe is fixed, the beam could be moved to and fro. It ran, of course, on a carriage which did not move; and a toothed wheel, controlled by a windlass, could force it to right or to left. At the moment it was clear of a hole in the massive wall on the right; but there could be no doubt that, if, by the use of the windlass, it was made to pass through this hole, it would jut out beyond the wall and under the floor of the hall – for it hung at the height of the spindle or thereabouts. The whole was smothered in grease, as the spindle and its cradle had been. There was just such a beam, no doubt, on the opposite side; and when the two were protruding, instead of withdrawn, the floor of the hall would be safe for fifty men: but, with only one beam engaged, the floor could not give way unless a tremendous weight were put upon it.

I was now abreast of the spot at which Mansel and George and the servants had been cast into the pit, so, for what it was worth, I put my arm through the hole through which the beam, when advanced, would have to pass, and flashed my torch three or four times, that if they were living and conscious they might believe that help, if not at hand, was going to come. I would have liked to call, but I dared not do that: but, when I had drawn back my arm, to my inexpressible joy, I saw through the hole in the wall a flash in return.

At once I plunged in my arm and flashed my torch again. Then I drew it back, again to receive a reply. And I was standing, thanking God and trying my best to remember two or three letters in Morse, when I heard a sound I had heard three times before. It was unmistakable. In fact, it was the thud of the ante-room door.