WHEN Larose, as had been arranged, rang up the Embassy that night, he was told to come round as soon as he could, and he arrived half an hour later. Then, being admitted as before by the servants’ entrance in the basement, he was passed on to another attendant who, without a word, led him along a long passage and down a flight of stairs into a dimly-lighted passage at the bottom.
Then, so suddenly that he had not the slightest warning, someone sprang upon him out of the darkness; he felt gripping hands all over him and he was thrown violently down and pressed tightly to the ground.
A light was switched on and he found himself in the grip of three burly men. A fourth produced a rope and he was quickly tied hand and foot.
Then he was lifted up and carried a short distance into a small room and deposited upon a bed there.
And all the time not a cry had been uttered and not a word spoken. It was like some dreadful dream. Then, after they all inspected the knots, one of his captors said something in a language he did not understand and the other two at once left the room, closing the door behind them. The one who had spoken seated himself down in a chair and lighting a cigarette, proceeded to regard him thoughtfully.
Larose was covered in a chilling perspiration and a feeling of horrid sickness was stealing over him. It was not only that he realised he was in dreadful danger, but his mortification at being found out was an absolute physical torture to him.
He saw the man was staring hard at him, but he would not give him the satisfaction of refusing to answer any questions and so he did not speak himself.
A long silence ensued, a deep heavy silence with not a sound penetrating in from the outside world. A chamber of death, thought Larose, and with an icy shiver his thoughts ran on to visualise possibilities even worse than death.
He was in the hands of men whose actions, the world over, had proved them to be of an inhuman cruelty, times without number. In the furthering of debased ideals there was no form of suffering they were not prepared to inflict upon those who stood in their way.
So what now might be going to happen to him? Either as punishment for the way he had deceived them, or if they thought he had secrets which it was desirable they should learn, then he might as soon expect mercy from a beast of the jungle as from them.
The door opened without a sound and von Ravenheim, followed by a man carrying a small box, stepped into the room. The ambassador came over to the bed and stood looking down upon Larose.
His face was calm and expressionless, but his eyes were hard as steel. “You are Gilbert Larose,” he said quietly, “and you have told me untruths.” He paused a moment. “I intend to find out why.”
Larose did not speak. It would be no good, he told himself! He would not be able to bluff the man any more!
Von Ravenheim went on: “I do not suppose you will speak unless I compel you!” He paused again. “Then I shall have to make you.”
He made a sign to the man behind him and the latter, placing the box upon the table, occupied himself with some preparations, the nature of which Larose could not see. Von Ravenheim moved over to the table and stood watching what was going on.
Now, in after years, Larose could never recollect anything of what his thoughts were in the long minute which followed. Indeed, he did not think he could have had any thoughts at all. The horror of everything was too great and his brain must have been numbed.
But he always remembered that he awoke to concrete thought the instant he saw the man approaching him with a hypodermic syringe in his hand. “What are you going to do to me?” he cried. “What are you going to do?”
No one gave him any answer, but he saw that von Ravenheim’s face was no longer expressionless, and that he was now smiling a cruel and evil smile.
Larose started to struggle violently in an endeavor to throw himself off the bed, but the third man instantly darted forward and held him down. Von Ravenheim gave no assistance to the men, keeping his distance as if Larose were too loathsome a thing to touch.
“Slap his face hard if he doesn’t keep still,” said the ambassador, and a stinging blow from a heavy hand made Larose realise how useless it was to keep up the struggle. He relaxed and lay still.
Then the sleeve of his coat was pulled up and he felt a prick just above his wrist, and a few moments later the two men withdrew from the bed.
“It will take a little while to act,” said von Ravenheim, speaking in Baltic to the two men, “but when you see he’s unconscious you can take off the ropes. Then exactly twelve hours from now he’s to be given another dose, but of only half the strength. You understand?”
At first Larose thought nothing was going to happen to him, but very soon a dreadful, heavy feeling began to creep over him. The room began to grow dark, gradually the darkness deepened and finally his last thoughts of his wife and little son were blotted out. He lay as one who was dead.
London was breakfasting the next morning when he had awakened, and was fully conscious again. Both physically and mentally he was in the lowest depth of misery. His head was aching terribly and he felt horribly giddy. His limbs were heavy as lead.
His prospects could not be darker. There was not a ray of hope anywhere. He had taken no one into his confidence and no one had known where he was going. So when he was dead — a shudder convulsed him as he thought of this — what had happened to him would never be known to anyone. He would have just been blotted out.
In a numb, half-registering way he took in the appointments of the room, dimly lighted by one small globe at the far end. It had no windows and was ventilated by a shaft. It contained very little furniture. At the far end there was an alcove enclosing a bath.
Too sick at heart to have any desire to think of anything, he was just about to close his eyes again when he heard the opening of the door and saw three men come into the room. Two of them were his captors of the previous night and the third was the man who had given him the hypodermic injection. The latter had his box with him again.
“God!” exclaimed Larose, so weak and miserable that he could easily have burst into tears. “Are you going to give me that awful stuff again?”
But no reply was made, and, as before, the man with the box made his preparations upon the table. Then the three men came over to the bed, and two of them held him roughly down. He made no resistance, however, and the injection was made quickly in perfect silence. Immediately after, they all left the room.
A quarter of an hour later he had lapsed into semi-unconsciousness again.
The Baltic ambassador was a bachelor; and it was an unmarried sister who acted as hostess at the Embassy. She was an aristocratic-looking woman in the middle forties and of a very reserved and cold disposition. It was rumored she had been the victim of an unhappy love affair in her youth and for a time had lost her reason. She hated all social functions, but endured them.
There was not much affection between brother and sister, and she took very little interest in his work. She never questioned him nor appeared curious about anything. She showed no enthusiasm even for her own country and read the newspapers as little as possible. Her one interest in life was painting; and, with no real gift that way, she yet devoted all her leisure to her art.
To her brother she was just the automatically competent housekeeper of the Embassy and that was all.
So it was she who received Cecily and Hilda Castle when they arrived that afternoon. Her brother had told her they were daughters of an influential friend of his and were to be her guests until the following day. She had made no comment, but had seen to it that everything was ready for them.
The Embassy was a large building of early Victorian days, but all the upper part of it had been modernised and the two girls were given a small, compact suite of four rooms upon the second floor consisting of a sitting-room, and two bedrooms, with a bathroom in between.
Fraulein von Ravenheim presided over tea and for a few minutes they were alone with her, with conversation flagging and difficult. But soon the ambassador, accompanied by Herr Blitzen came into the room and the former being introduced, the atmosphere became much less strained.
Certainly, Herr Blitzen appeared to be very thoughtful and spoke very little; but von Ravenheim was most animated and both the girls were at once charmed with him. He was so good-looking, his manners were so courtly and it was evident he was so desirous of being friendly to them.
He took them both in with appreciating eyes, and especially Cecily. He soon formed the opinion that if it were little short of a calamity that his superior should have become so infatuated with her, he could nevertheless quite understand. The girl was not only very pretty and most fascinating to look upon, but her intelligence was also of a high order.
So quite aware that Blitzen was watching him intently, he let him see plainly that as far as the girl herself was concerned, he was regarding her with feelings of admiration.
Presently he said smilingly, “Now, I understand that neither of you speaks our language. Well”— he bowed —“forgive me if I make a private remark to Herr Blitzen,” and, taking their consent for granted, he turned to Herr Blitzen.
“She is a very beautiful young woman, your Excellency,” he said impressively in Baltic, “and any man would fall in love with her. She is not only beautiful, but most intelligent as well.” There was a note of warning in his tones. “So you be very cautious, sir, or she may find out far more than you want her to know.”
Cecily had crimsoned, “But that wasn’t polite, Herr von Ravenheim,” she said reprovingly. “You may have been saying something very disparaging about us.”
“Not at all,” laughed the ambassador. “I’m sure I couldn’t think of anything disparaging, however long I thought.” He rose to his feet. “But come on now. I’ll take you to see our paintings. They were all gifts to us and we are very proud of them.”
He led them into a large and lofty room. “This is our banqueting-hall,” he explained, “and many great men have had their knees under its table, emperors, kings, soldiers, statesmen, artists and people renowned in all walks of life,” he waved his arm round the walls and added reverently, “and the men and women in those immortal paintings have looked down upon them.”
“Immortal!” laughed Cecily. “But they can’t last for ever!”
“But the stories of them will,” smiled von Ravenheim, “and for all time the world will remember their creators.” He pointed to a large painting. “Look, that was painted by Holbein in 1530. It is the portrait of a soldier,” he laughed. “I am sorry to say that of an English soldier; but then Holbein was living here at the time. See how he has caught the man’s expression, the confidence of the true fighting man, the courage and the contempt of danger and the determination to kill his enemy.”
“But it’s a rather cruel face!” said Cecily. “He doesn’t look as if he’d ever have any pity!”
“And he shouldn’t!” exclaimed von Ravenheim emphatically. “It is his mission to destroy.” He spoke reverently. “He is a fighter for his country.”
“Well, the painting is wonderful, of course,” admitted Cecily, “but I should prefer a nicer looking subject.”
The ambassador shook his head. “All of us, according to how we are made,” he smiled. “Myself, I confess that soldier’s face is often an inspiration to me.” He pointed to another painting. “See, Holbein again, a young girl this time. Very beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, she’s lovely!” exclaimed Cecily. “What a wonderful painter Holbein was!”
“Marvellous!” breathed von Ravenheim. He sighed, “And he lies buried in St. Paul’s, you know, far from his home.” He spoke banteringly. “One day, when we conquer this country of yours, we shall take back his dust to the land where he was born.”
They looked at the other paintings, and then von Ravenheim took them into his study. They inspected some engravings there, all of war-like subjects, and then he said —“Now I’m going to give you another treat. I’ll show you our silver plate and, like our paintings, much of it is very old.” He took a bunch of keys out of a pigeon-hole in his desk and led them to a large cupboard let into the wall. “We have to take great care of this plate because it is all so portable, if burglars ever broke in.”
The silver was certainly very beautiful, and the girls were unstinting in their admiration. “But really,” said Cecily, “the treasures you have in this Embassy must be rather an anxiety to you. Aren’t you afraid any of them may get stolen? Don’t you ever worry about burglars?”
Von Ravenheim shook his head. “Not much; we have a watchman on the ground floor at night, and he is armed.” He nodded. “All our men servants here can use a pistol, and they get practice at a little shooting range we have.”
“A shooting range!” exclaimed Cecily. “Is there one in the Embassy?”
“Certainly!” smiled the ambassador. “It’s below the basement. I’ll take you there if you like and you shall fire a pistol.”
“How thrilling,” exclaimed Cecily. “Yes, I’d like to see it very much.”
So down in the lift the four of them went. Herr Blitzen grateful for the intimacy which the cramped quarters of the lift conferred upon them.
The girls appeared most interested in the shooting gallery, and each of them fired a few shots. They applauded, too, when both of the men scored a bulls-eye.
Returning along the passage, they walked in front. Then, passing a closed door upon their way, they heard von Ravenheim say something in Baltic to Blitzen, and the latter made a short comment.
Going up in the lift again, Cecily said the fumes from the cartridges in the shooting-gallery had made her feel a little faint. She certainly did look a little pale, and so they went straight up to their room to rest until dinner.
Then the moment they were alone and the door closed behind them, Cecily said breathlessly to her sister. “Did you hear what they said as they passed that door, that someone called Larose was in the room there?”
Her sister nodded. Her face had paled too, as she added, “And that he was going to be questioned tonight. There would be some doctor present.”
A long silence followed, with the girls staring at each other. Then Cecily said quietly, “We’ve not had all our wits about us, Hilda. I told you at Wickham Towers that I was suspicious about that Mr. Wheatley there, and thought I knew his face, and now I’m certain about it. He was that Gilbert Larose, who married Lady Ardane, and we had met him at Brighton, two Christmases ago!” Her eyes opened very wide and she made a startled “O— oh!” She could hardly speak in her excitement. “And he was at the Arragon Hotel, too, soon after we came there.”
Another silence followed and then her sister said slowly, “Yes, he was, but he hadn’t got a moustache then! He was that man who was always sitting in the lounge.”
“Oh, Hilda,” asked Cecily, “what does it mean?”
Hilda spoke very solemnly. “It means, dear, that he’s been caught. We know he sometimes does work for the Secret Service and so, probably, he’s been working for them now, and been found out.”
“But could he possibly have discovered anything about us?” suggested Cecily. She went on quietly. “But we mustn’t stop to think about that now. He’s here, a prisoner in the Embassy.”
“Of course, he’s a prisoner,” said Hilda sharply. “Only a prisoner would be shut up in those cellars! Yes, he’s been decoyed here. That’s what it is.” She nodded meaningly. “And tonight he’s going to be”— she stressed the last word —“questioned!”
The two girls looked hard at each other again, as if not liking to put their thoughts into words. Then Hilda went on. “Well, we must tell them outside. We must let somebody know.”
Cecily heaved a big sigh and then shook her head. “Not if we can help it, and only as a last resource!” she said. “Let’s think if we can’t do something ourselves!”
It was a bright and lively dinner that night; and both the girls had several glasses of champagne. Fraulein von Ravenheim hardly spoke a word, but the conversation between the other four was most animated. They discussed art, literature and music, but politics were not mentioned.
Towards the end of the meal Cecily suddenly discovered she was without a handkerchief, and with a smiling little apology, rose up and left the room.
But the smile faded instantly from her face when she was in the corridor. She drew in one deep breath and then started to run swiftly towards the ambassador’s study. The whole floor seemed to be deserted and she gained the room without encountering anyone.
She found his bunch of keys at once and hurried to the lift as quick as lightning. It was standing against that floor and, opening and closing the gate with only the very faintest of clicks, she pressed the button and was carried down as far as the lift would go. She stepped into the dimly-lighted passage and raced towards the shooting gallery. Then, to her horror, she was not certain which door von Ravenheim had indicated when they had overheard what he had said. All the doors were exactly alike.
But it was all or nothing now, and she started to rap sharply at them one by one.
“Anyone there?” she called out breathlessly. “Are you there, Mr. Larose?”
At the first two doors she heard nothing, but from behind the third came the sound of a weak voice. She could not catch what the speaker said, but, chancing it, she began feverishly trying the keys upon the bunch. There were not many of them, and the third one turned inside the lock and she pushed the door open.
She stepped into the room and saw a man sitting up on a narrow bed. His hair was dishevelled, his face was white and haggard, and he stared at her with frightened eyes.
For a moment she thought it was not the man she wanted. He looked so different from the trim and spruce figure she remembered at Wickham Towers, but he smiled weakly and then she recognised him at once.
“Good God!” he exclaimed incredulously. “It’s you.”
“Quick!” she exclaimed. “There’s not a moment to lose. Come along.”
Larose started to rise to his feet, but instantly he swayed and would have fallen if she had not darted forward and caught him.
“Can’t you walk?” she asked despairingly.
The man clasped his arms over his chest. “Wait a moment,” he replied breathing heavily. “I’m half drugged, but I’ll manage it!” His eyes fell upon the bunch of keys in her hand. “Here,” he exclaimed, his voice gathering force, “you open the door two doors further from this. It’s a shooting gallery. The switch is on the left! You’ll see some drawers right in front of you and there are pistols inside. Bring me one and some cartridges.”
“But I daren’t wait a second!” she cried. “They may miss me and come to look for me.”
“Oh, do risk it!” he pleaded. “They’re going to torture me. I’ll be pulling myself together while you’re away. Try one of the keys. I saw it was a big one.”
She gave a flashing glance to the bunch of keys and saw that one was certainly bigger than the others. So she ran out of the room and Larose began drawing in deep breaths and stretching his arms, feeling new life course through him with every breath he drew.
He had risen to his feet and had managed to totter to the door in the short time she was away.
“Here you are!” she said breathlessly. “I could only find three loose cartridges.”
“You’re an angel of light!” breathed Larose fervently. “Oh, glorious, it’s got a silencer on and it’s already loaded. You shut the door after you, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and switched off the light. Come along.”
She had to support all his weight up the passage, but in less than a minute they had reached the lift.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.
“Up to our rooms upon the third floor. We are staying the night here.”
“No, no, stop on the ground floor,” protested Larose. “I can fight my way out through the hall.”
“Nonsense, you can’t even stand!” she said sharply. “And, besides, there are always several people about there by the switchboard.”
She arrived at the third floor, and then, her nervousness more apparent than at any time, she literally dragged him along the corridor to their rooms.
“Hide yourself where you can,” she panted. “I can’t do anything more for you now. We’ll come up to bed as soon as we can and see what can be done then,” and closing the door upon him, she darted back to the lift.
For a long while Larose remained prone upon the floor, exactly where she had left him, with his heart beating violently and feeling so giddy that he had to keep his eyes closed.
Then the palpitation beginning to calm down, he forced himself to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. The moonlight was coming in round the drawn blinds and everything was plainly discernible. He was in a bedroom and a communicating door led into a bathroom.
He forced himself into a sitting position, and a minute or so later crawled to the window, which was open at the bottom. The fresh air seemed to clear his head, and he rose to his knees, and pulling aside the blind, looked out very cautiously.
Some forty feet below lay the big courtyard of the Embassy. It was paved with big stones and in the middle was a large square of grass, with some garden seats under two big trees. It was surrounded by tremendously high walls, liberally studded with broken glass at their tops. Round the sides of the courtyard were a number of greenhouses and some sheds. Four long French windows and a door from the house opened on to the courtyard, but there was no exit from the yard leading off the Embassy premises.
Then his eyes fell upon a frail-looking iron staircase, zigzagging up the side of the house. “The fire escape, and I could get down by that!” He frowned. “But what’d be the good? They’ll be searching every hole and corner before long, and then”— he rose shakily to his feet and began stretching his arms again —“but give me just a little longer and I’ll think of something that’ll not drag these poor girls in.”
He walked slowly into the bathroom and sponged his face vigorously with cold water, feeling much less giddy at once. Then he explored the other two rooms, and coming upon a large box of chocolates, helped himself generously.
“Perhaps that Blitzen man gave them to her,” he sighed. Then his eyes opened very wide. “But what the devil is the mystery there? Mixed up with this hellish crowd, yet dragging me from their clutches! What does it mean?”
But he gave up thinking about it and, revived by the chocolates, began walking backwards and forwards to recover the proper use of his legs.
In the meantime Cecily, back at the dinner table again, was playing a brave part. The length of her absence from the room was not remarked upon and she took up her share of the conversation with as much animation as before.
No one would have dreamed from her bright and smiling face that she had passed through minutes of such dreadful stress, and was now regarding her handsome host with feelings of unmitigated horror. Nor in the time which followed would anyone have dreamed either, that her nerves were strung up almost to breaking point, fearing as she was that the escape of Larose might be discovered any minute.
The meal over, they adjourned to the ambassador’s study and played a hand of bridge. At five and twenty minutes to eleven, however, von Ravenheim looked at his wrist watch and compared it with the clock upon the mantelpiece. After that, every two or three minutes, he compared them again, and Cecily knew that the time for the arrival of the doctor he was expecting must be close at hand.
So, making a signal to her sister, she pleaded that she was very tired and thought it would be best if they both went to bed. Von Ravenheim’s face brightened instantly, and with great gallantry, he escorted them to the lift and waited until it had passed up from his view.
“Oh, Hilda,” exclaimed Cecily in a frightened whisper. “I got him out and took him up to our rooms.”
“You’re wonderful, darling,” commented her sister warmly. She looked anxious. “But what’s going to happen now?”
“I’ve thought it all out,” replied Cecily, appearing all at once to throw off her fears, “and I don’t see how it can go wrong. Come on, quick.”
Larose came out from behind a wardrobe when they came into the room, and, to their great relief, he was smiling, and anything but the helpless creature Cecily, at all events, had been expecting to see.
He told him he was feeling very much stronger, and, now that they had come up, he must leave them at once and find some hiding place which would not compromise them if he were discovered.
“In a few minutes they are sure to be searching everywhere,” he added, “but I may be able to dodge them. I’ve explored all round this landing and ——”
“No,” interrupted Cecily sharply; “I’ve got an idea.”
At that moment von Ravenheim was introducing Herr Blitzen to Dr. Jansen, and the latter, although regarding him curiously, never for one moment suspected his real identity.
“Now you quite understand, doctor,” said von Ravenheim sharply, “this man is likely to prove stubborn and may need two or three applications of the irons before he speaks. He looks perfectly all right to me, but you’d better examine him first to see what he can stand.”
The doctor nodded. “But I shall want some methylated spirit,” he said. “I forgot to put a bottle in my bag.”
Von Ravenheim looked annoyed. “But that doesn’t matter,” he said, “I’ll have a radiator taken in instead.”
He touched a bell and one of the three men who had laid such rough hands upon Larose the previous night appeared.
“Are the others ready?” asked the ambassador. “Then get a radiator, Himmell, and all wait outside. You’ve got your key, of course.”
A minute later six men were walking up the long passage towards the room where Larose had been confined. Himmell walked first and switched on the lights as he came to them.
“This man Larose should have quite a lot to tell us,” remarked von Ravenheim cheerfully. “He’s probably deep in with their Secret Service, for it was he who got our friend Mitter caught some years ago.”
The door was reached and the man whom the ambassador had addressed as Himmell unlocked it and, followed by his two assistants, walked in first, prepared to grapple instantly with the prisoner.
He snapped down the switch for the big light in the middle of the room and then instantly uttered a hoarse cry. “He’s not here!” he shouted. “He’s gone.”
They all crowded in and for a long moment an amazed hush filled the room. There was no possible place to hide, and they stared at the bed, as if by staring they would see what they had been expecting to see.
Herr Blitzen spoke first. “Is this the right room?” he asked.
Von Ravenheim turned with the dart of a snake. “The right room!” he thundered. Then he seemed to remember himself and went on quietly. “Yes, your —— yes, Herr Blitzen;” he looked with burning eyes at Himmell, and one arm shot out menacingly, “and only that man and I possess a key.”
Himmell’s face had gone a pasty color, but he spoke up boldly, “and it has never left my chain, mein Herr!” He lifted up his tunic and showed the attachment of the chain to his belt. “It has never been out of my keeping for one instant since yesterday.”
“You let him out!” said von Ravenheim sternly.
“I did not, Mein Herr!” pleaded the man. He shook his head incredulously. “I have never been by myself since we came in and saw he was safe, early this evening.” He pointed to his two assistants. “Rudolph and Heinrich have been with me ever since in the kitchen, or playing cards in our room all the time.”
“Then what time did you last come here?” snapped the ambassador when the two men had corroborated their companion’s statement.
“At 6 o’clock,” was the reply, “and he was lying on the bed. He was awake but looked very weak. He didn’t speak and ——”
“Then you most likely pulled the door to and did not notice it had not locked,” broke in Herr Blitzen roughly. He shook his head angrily. “But we are wasting valuable time. The doctor here says the man cannot walk more than a few yards, so if he has got out of his room he must be hiding close by.” He addressed himself to von Ravenheim. “He can’t leave the embassy without being noticed, can he?”
Von Ravenheim looked very stern and grim. “Not unless I am surrounded by traitors,” he snapped. He shook his head. “No, he cannot have got from this passage to the servants’ entrance unless three doors had been unlocked for him. If he had taken the lift and tried to leave by the hall — well, it would have been impossible. There are always attendants there and no one opens the hall door for himself. Night or day it is never left unattended.”
“You keep a watch for bombs, and so on,” suggested the doctor. He nodded. “It is well! We have many enemies. It is best to be careful.”
Von Ravenheim gave him a withering glare, but made no comment.
Then began a most intensive search all through the Embassy. All the servants were called up and told it was suspected a burglar was hiding somewhere. Then, room by room, every one was gone through.
The girls and Larose heard the doors opening and shutting on their floor, and the bath water was immediately turned on. Larose and Cecily shut themselves in the bathroom, while Hilda remained in her own bedroom. The light in the sitting room was switched off.
There was a rap upon Hilda’s door, under which the light was showing, and they heard the voice of the ambassador, “Have you gone to bed?” he called out. “I want to speak to you.”
“Just going,” called back Hilda, “wait a moment,” and she quickly opened the door and showed herself in her dressing gown. She saw von Ravenheim, Herr Blitzen and two men in the corridor.
“So sorry to trouble you,” said the ambassador, looking very grim, “but a burglar broke in and we think he’s still in the building. We had better go through these rooms.”
Hilda was out in the passage in a flash. “Oh, how awful,” she exclaimed. “Do look under our beds.” She laid her hand upon his arm. “But don’t frighten Cecily. She’s having a bath. She’s probably not heard anything because of the noise of the running water. Now, don’t frighten her.”
“Not for worlds,” nodded Herr Blitzen. He smiled as if it were a good joke, “The burglar is not likely to be having a bath there, too.”
The bedrooms and sitting room were looked through and then the searchers went off, with Blitzen bidding Hilda to be sure to lock their doors.
Ten minutes later all the lights in the suite were switched off, but Larose and the girls were kneeling before one of the windows and watching the courtyard below. Lights were flashing in the greenhouses and sheds and there must have been at least a dozen men taking part in the search.
But it was soon over and the courtyard left once again to the moonlight and its peace.
Then Larose started to thank them most gratefully for all they had done, but Cecily at once cut him short. “There’s nothing to thank us for,” she said. “We were only doing our duty.” She seemed embarrassed and added quickly, “I mean it was only a matter of humanity.” She spoke decisively, “Now don’t you ask us any questions and we won’t ask you any. You understand?”
“But just two questions,” pleaded Larose. “When did you come here and how did you learn where I was?”
“We came here this afternoon and we are going away tomorrow,” said Cecily. “As for knowing what was happening to you”— she hesitated —“we happened to overhear something in a language we are not supposed to understand, something about you and a Dr. Jansen who was coming tonight. That’s all. So please don’t ask anything more.”
She looked very worried. “Now what are you going to do?”
“Well,” said Larose, “the boldest course is nearly always the best and there’s just a chance if I go down now I may be able to walk straight out of the front door. If I go down in the lift, no one may see me and I may find no one either in the hall.”
“And you may find half a dozen,” commented Cecily sharply. “Then where will you be?”
“But if you,” began Larose, he spoke as if very uncomfortable in suggesting such a thing, “went down first you could see if the hall was empty.”
“But what excuse could I make?” frowned Cecily.
“Oh, that you wanted some brandy,” said Larose. “You could say that your sister was feeling faint after the fright.” He spoke eagerly. “Yes, and you could ask for a biscuit or two as well. Except for those chocolates, I’ve had nothing to eat since yesterday; that and two horrible hypodermic injections they gave me have made me feel very weak.” He pulled up his shirt sleeve and showed his wrist. “Look, that is what they did to me.”
The girls looked shocked, but Cecily rose instantly to her feet and left the room very quietly.
“You’re wonderful girls,” whispered Larose to Hilda. He sighed heavily. “I only hope you won’t burn your fingers.”
In spite of her obvious anxiety, Hilda laughed. “The conceit of you, Mr. Larose. You think you are the only one who can play with fire.”
A long wait followed, so long that both of them became really anxious. Then, to their great relief, the door opened, and Cecily reappeared, carrying a tray. “A big brandy and soda,” she whispered exultantly, “and better than biscuits, ham sandwiches. I happened to meet one of the maids who was bringing up some supper for the men and she was most obliging.” She looked scornfully at Larose. “As for no one being in the hall, there were three of them there and someone was working in the office as well.”
They watched Larose enjoy his meal and then Cecily asked with a frown, “Wouldn’t it be safer to let”— she seemed to stumble over the words —“your friends know what is happening?”
But Larose was now full of confidence. “No,” he said quickly, “I’ve got myself into this mess and I want to get out of it by myself. If things come to their worst, I’ll make for the roof and attract attention in the street by firing this pistol you got for me.”
“But what do you want to do now?” asked Cecily.
“If you don’t mind my being here until about half past two when the moon goes in, I’ll get down the fire escape into the courtyard and, if I can’t manage to get over the wall, I’ll hide in one of those greenhouses or sheds and see what happens in the morning.”
So, for two hours he rested upon Hilda’s bed, keeping himself awake with a great effort, and then bidding the girls a whispered good-bye, stepped out into the corridor.
He found the door opening on to the fire escape and was soon down in the courtyard. But he looked everywhere in vain for a ladder, realising at once that it was quite hopeless to attempt to scale the high wall without one. So he made himself a bed under some sacks in one of the sheds and, worn out with the excitement of the night, dropped to sleep almost at once.
The sun was well up when he awoke, and judging by the rumble of the great city, the sounds of which everyone who has lived in London soon get to know, he reckoned it must be between six and seven o’clock. The shed was narrow, but of quite a good length. It contained a carpenter’s bench and quite a lot of tools, and was evidently the place where the handy man of the embassy did the odd jobs. He noted, sadly, a long coil of thickish rope, the thought coming to him how easy it would be to get over the wall with it if there were only someone holding it taut for him on the other side. He looked out of the one small and dirty window. The courtyard was quite deserted, but he heard sounds of movements in the house and then saw a maid pull up the blinds and throw open all the long French windows.
He had minutely questioned the girls as to the general plan of the house, and knew into which rooms these windows led. Also, he had a pretty good idea as to what lay beyond before he could reach the hall.
“The devil of it,” he told himself ruefully, “is the number of rooms that open into that hall and the people who may be occupying them, perhaps, with the doors very often left open! This embassy must be a darned busy place during the day, with all those offices von Ravenheim told the girls about. And I can’t expect to fight my way out from a lot of innocent clerks and attendants! Depend upon it, there will be only a picked few who know anything about von Ravenheim’s devilries and they won’t have any labels on them to show who they are!” He nodded. “Still, sometime during the day I’ve got to take a big chance and I don’t forget I shall only get one chance. If I bungle it, I shall be in the soup again, and then heaven only knows what’ll happen.”
Presently a man, who was evidently the gardener, appeared, but he went straight to one of the greenhouses and so Larose did not have to dart to his sacks again. The man came out in a few minutes, and, passing close to the shed, Larose saw he was now carrying some peaches upon a nest of leaves in a flat basket. He carried them slowly and reverently.
“For the ambassadorial breakfast,” sighed Larose, “and most likely there’ll be grilled kidneys and ham and eggs!”
The gardener reappeared quickly and now busied himself with trimming the lawn. Nothing happened for a long time, and then Larose’s heart beat a little quicker as he saw the two girls appear through one of the French windows, followed by Herr Blitzen and the ambassador. The girls looked rather tired and their faces were pale. Their companions looked stern and unsmiling. They all stopped in one corner of the courtyard, and von Ravenheim pointed out to them something, apparently, at the top of the wall, and Larose trembled as the eagle eyes for a few moment roved round thoughtfully upon the greenhouses and sheds.
They walked round the courtyard a few times and then, greatly to Larose’s relief, disappeared into the house again.
But it was not very long before the ambassador reappeared, followed now by quite a little party. First came two workmen carrying a long ladder, then a third, laden with a basket of tools, and, finally, one of the footmen of the Embassy. Larose eyed the last angrily as he recognised in him the lackey who had slapped his face so vigorously two nights before.
Von Ravenheim led the way to the corner of the yard where he had been pointing out something a few minutes previously. The ladder was propped up, and first he, and then one of the workmen mounted. Then, after some conversation, von Ravenheim went into the house. More material was brought into the yard and a number of bottles were taken out of a sack.
“Gee,” exclaimed Larose, breathlessly, “they’re going to put more glass upon the wall!” His heart beat painfully. “Now’s my chance if only the workmen are left to themselves, and that wretched footman goes away.”
But the three workmen were not left to themselves and minute after minute went by, with the embassy attendant watching them as they worked.
One man chiselled the old cement off the wall, while the other two, squatting on the ground, started breaking up the bottles. They appeared to be taking great care to get the pieces of glass of exactly the required size.
Presently, the first man came down from the ladder, and, upon picking up a bucket, he was directed by the footman to where he could get water to mix the cement. There was a tap by one of the greenhouses over on the other side of the courtyard.
Larose felt desperate! If only the footman were not there, he would be up the ladder and over the wall before anyone had time to stop him!
In a positive agony of doubt he hesitated with the precious moments flying quickly by. At last he made up his mind. He literally sprang upon the coil of rope and threw it over his shoulder. Then things happened very quickly.
A muffled snap came from the shed and the loud crash of falling glass from near where the workman was drawing water. A bullet had struck the metal framework of the greenhouse, and the impact had shattered a number of panes.
“What the devil are you doing?” shouted the footman angrily, and he ran across the yard to see what had happened.
Larose sprang out of the shed like an arrow from a bow, and, so engrossed were all the men in staring at the damaged greenhouse, that he had gained the foot of the ladder before a head had been turned in his direction.
Then the face-slapping footman saw him, and, letting out a yell, started to race furiously towards him.
Larose ran up the ladder like lightning but, astride the wall and preparing to tie his rope to the top rung of the ladder so that he could take the twenty-five foot drop on the other side without injury, he saw he would not be able to do it before the footman had pulled the ladder away.
So out came the automatic again, and in the flash of a second the man had fallen with a bullet in his leg.
By this time the commotion had brought a number of persons out of the house, and, among them, Larose saw, were the ambassador, Herr Blitzen, and the two girls. All stared incredulously.
But having now completed his adjustment of the rope, with a mocking gesture of farewell, Larose slid out of sight over the wall.
He alighted safely on to the ground and found himself in the small back yard of a house in Great Portland Street. But he had a pretty good idea where he was, having reconnoitered all round the Embassy when he had been upon the watch for von Ravenheim a couple of weeks previously.
He knocked on the only door he saw, and, without waiting for any answer, opened it and entered the house. He found himself in a kitchen, with a young girl ironing at the table. She looked up very surprised.
“Excuse me,” he said, casually, “but I’ve had to go through all these back yards after a very valuable parrot which has flown over from the Baltic Embassy!” He smiled ingratiatingly. “But it’s not here.”
“No, we’ve not seen it!” said the girl.
“Well, let us know at once it you do,” he said. “The ambassador says he will give anyone ￡5 who takes it back.”
“Oh, then I’ll look out for it,” smiled the girl. “Five pounds are worth having.”
Larose smiled back. “Well, I think I may as well go out into the street now.” He pointed to the other kitchen door. “I suppose it’s straight though.”
The girl nodded. “Yes, you can go through the shop.” So, through an ironmonger’s shop Larose went. There were several assistants, and some customers being served, but no one took any notice of him, and he reached the street without being spoken to.