Blood Royal (8 page)

In a flash we were at a window commanding that side of the house, to see a taxi at rest at the foot of the steps.

No one alighted, but after a moment or two we heard the slam of Grieg’s door.

That the fellow had ordered the taxi was now very plain, and I had little doubt that he had made some appointment which was better not kept by day. It seemed a pity, if we could, not to hear the address…

The engine of the taxi was running, and the car was facing away from where we stood.

George opened the window swiftly, and I was out in an instant and lying flat in the flowerbed which flanked the steps. As I took a deep breath, Grieg came out of the house.

“
The Square of Carpet
,” he said thickly, and entered the car.

George had a directory ready before I was back in the flat.

“
The Square of Carpet
,” said I. “I guess it’s a kind of night-club, but we may as well see.”

“Temple or pot-house,” said George, “I’ll bet it contains Johann. Grieg’s taken the knock pretty badly and he wants to be sure that his principal’s not getting cold. I don’t suppose Johann wants to see him, but Grieg’s not the sort of ladder that you can kick down. And, as Grieg can’t go to the palace and Johann daren’t come here, they meet in some market to which everyone can go.”

The Square of Carpet
was a café not very far from the cathedral, and less than half an hour’s walk from where we stood: since it was dark, however, we took the Rolls and, alighting by the cathedral, told Bell to drive her home and, when he had put her away, to go to bed.

The streets were poorly lighted, and we could not make out their names, but a policeman whom we accosted pointed to the mouth of an alley and bade us turn to the left. We did as he said, and as we turned the corner, we heard a faint sound of music and saw ahead a cluster of red and yellow lights.

We were now in a street of great age. It was so narrow that no big car could have used it, and as if that were not enough, the houses on either hand had been built out above the pavement and were in some places so near that a man leaning out of a window could have handed a basket to another on the opposite side.

A man was ahead of us, wrapped in a voluminous cloak, and we saw him turn under an archway above which the lights I have mentioned were making a paltry show. We therefore quickened our steps and reached the archway in time to see him enter a pretentious but shabby hall, a place of high lights and dirty paintwork, with a gorgeous crimson carpet which had been trodden into holes. A seedy attendant in livery offered to take his cloak, but, when the man ignored him, another swung open a door whose mirror was cracked, and the man passed in.

We followed immediately.

The place was very much bigger than I had supposed.

A dancing floor was ringed by a promenade, and this was surrounded by boxes of which there were two tiers. A band was playing lustily, and the floor was full, but the women were wearing their day clothes and, while there were plenty of uniforms, I only saw one man wearing evening dress.

Almost at once some official was bowing before us and proposing to assign us a box, and, since it seemed best to take one, we told him to lead the way.

A vile, dark flight of stairs brought us up to the second tier, at the back of which lay a passage some three feet wide. Along this we passed for so long that I was about to protest when our guide flung open a door and ushered us into a box which was almost facing the entrance from which we had come. Then he shut the door and left us without a word.

“That means champagne,” said George.

Sure enough a waiter arrived before we had had time to look round and opened a bottle of wine with a great deal of fuss.

We paid what he asked and told him to bring some beer. At this he seemed astonished and stared at the wine, but, when we repeated our order, he shrugged his shoulders and went.

A glance around suggested that we were wasting our time.

Grieg was not on the floor or the promenade, and since the boxes were dark, he had only to draw back his chair to be out of view. Most of them, indeed, appeared empty, till the sparkle of a glass being raised betrayed an occupant, and I reflected rather dismally that, if we had paused to consider, we might have known what to expect. Still, the fellow was there somewhere, and so, I was sure, was Johann, and we felt that to go would be foolish, when by staying we might see something which we could turn to our use another day. So we hung up our coats and sat down and wished for the beer.

The heat was awful, and the air was most thick and foul. There can have been no vent-holes and there were certainly no fans. A dense haze of tobacco smoke filled every corner like a fog.

“What we need,” said George, “is a guide – some wallah that frequents this place and cadges his drinks.”

As he spoke, the door of the box was opened, and a girl put in her head.

“Talk of the devil,” said George, and called her in.

She entered with her companion – as pitiful a thing as herself, and George began to entertain them, whilst I poured out some champagne.

One was French, so I was presently able to do my share, and George played up to the other in a masterly way.

Very soon he asked them to point out to us Duke Paul, but at once they said that he was not there that night and that, when his fiancée was in Vigil, she would not let him go out.

“Who is his fiancée?” said George.

“Leonie,” was the answer. “She hates the sight of him.”

“Nonsense,” said George.

“Of course she does,” said the girl. “When he’s kissed her hand she washes it in Lysol within the hour.”

“Then why does she keep him at home?”

“For her pride,” said the girl. “Leonie’s proud as heaven. You ought to try to see her. She’s like the queens they put in a picture-book.”

“Well, she’ll be one one day,” said George.

The girl shrugged her shoulders.

“Some say Paul wants to renounce. If he did, it’d let in his cousin. He’s here tonight, but he never comes out of his box.”

“Which is his box?” said George.

“I don’t know,” said the girl. “I don’t know what he comes for. I’ve never had a drink off him yet.”

“I think he’s gone,” said the other, regarding her empty glass. “Don’t you two like champagne?”

“Not very much,” said I, and filled her glass.

“Why don’t they bring that beer?” said George. “If I don’t have something to drink, my lungs’ll seize.”

“There’s a bell somewhere,” said the French girl, stifling a yawn.

I found the bell and rang it with all my might. Conversation began to wane. We tried to steer it back to the royal house, but our guests seemed weary of the subject and every approach to it was greeted listlessly.

“Who’s that?” said George suddenly. “Going out by the door?”

His informant pulled off her hat and shook back her hair.

“What? Where?” she said casually, leaning forward. “Oh, that’s Johann. Seems to be rowing someone. Oh, my word, it’s the Bear.”

Cautiously we peered from our cover, to see a tall man in blue, with a lean and hungry look and a close-clipped moustache. His air was imperious, and his collar and cuffs, like Duke Paul’s, were laced with gold. Grieg stood before him, lowering, and the other was rating him sharply for all to see. As we watched, his chin went up in a final toss, and, leaving Grieg standing silent, he swaggered out of the place.

It was a theatrical exit, and I was sure that the scene had been planned between them to demolish any rumour that they were at one. It certainly created a sensation, for the dancing was almost at a standstill, and people were crowding to the doorway and standing up in the boxes and craning their necks. About Grieg himself the press was especially thick, but he seemed to take no notice, and though two officers were asking him something or other, he made no answer but only looked very black.

Here something fell against me, and when I looked round I found a girl’s head on my shoulder, heavy as lead.

I was not in the mood for advances of such a kind, but I did not want to be churlish, so I made some jest or other and asked her to have some more wine.

To my surprise she neither moved nor answered, and an instant later I found that she was asleep.

I immediately turned to the other to call her attention to her friend; but her head was down on the table and she was sleeping like the dead.

I looked up to see George staring.

Presently he moistened his lips.

“What price the champagne?” he said softly.

And with his words every light in the place went out.

The tune the band was playing came to a discordant stop, and sounds of confusion arose upon every side. Tables were overturned and women cried out, and all the noise of a general hasty movement came to our ears. Here and there matches were struck, and the transient light they shed showed that everyone was for leaving with inconvenient speed. Men and women were scrambling from boxes into the promenade, and those in the promenade were climbing over the barrier on to the floor, and even the orchestra was feverishly deserting its pitch – all this, of course, to no purpose, for the exit was very small and, to judge from the cries and curses, was already pretty well blocked.

Such commotion seemed to me curious, for to stand or sit still until the lamps were relighted was common sense. Then it came to my mind that the regular patrons of the café were probably wiser than I and knew that
The Square of Carpet
was not the place to frequent when the lights had gone out.

And that was as far as I saw until I had made my way to the door of the box.

This was fast, and when I sought for the handle, there was none to be found.

For a moment I groped vainly: then the whole truth of the matter stood out clear as day.

Grieg’s game had been very simple, but quite good enough for us.

He had waited for us to come home and let us hear where he was going that we might come too. He was known at
The Square of Carpet
, which was doubtless an infamous place and was clearly very well suited for the commission of crime. A stranger went there at his peril. Drugged wine and darkness to order were part of its stock-in-trade. We had, of course, been expected: we had been led to our box by a roundabout way, and the beer which we had ordered had been withheld.

When I told George that there was no handle, I heard him draw in his breath.

“Time to be going,” he said. “Can we break down the door?”

That this was out of the question I very soon found. The door was stoutly built and opened inwards, and the back of the box itself was reinforced.

There was nothing to do but enter one of the boxes which stood on our right and left: this, of course, from the front, and, though such a movement was simple, the darkness made it a more unpleasant business than I ever would have believed.

We were now uncertain whether to use the passage or stay where we were, for our way by the passage was long and very narrow and those who were coming to seek us were probably on their way. To wait, however, seemed idle, for we were unarmed, and our only chance of avoiding a brush of some sort was to gain the exit before the crowd was gone.

We therefore opened the door and started along the passage as best we could, encountering no one, but quite unable to listen to any purpose for the uproar which filled the place.

Our progress was the most wretched I ever made.

We seemed to be stumbling forever round the wall of the bottomless pit. Grope as we would, we could not find the stairway up which we had come, and though more than once we entered boxes to try to get an idea of where we were, the darkness and the smoke and the noise were so confounding that Grieg himself could not have wished us more perplexed. Add to this that we were half stifled and were streaming with sweat, for now we were wearing our coats and the atmosphere of the passage was as thick and foul again as that of the box.

At last George touched my shoulder.

“I must drink or faint,” said he. “My head’s going round.”

There was plainly no time to be lost.

George could endure like a lion. When he confessed that he was failing the end was at hand.

It occurred to me suddenly that, in the rush to be gone, all manner of liquor must have been left undrunk.

I groped for the door of a box, opened it and went in gingerly, feeling my way.

At once I touched the table and then, to my delight, a bottle heavy with wine.

George was close behind me, leaning on the jamb of the doorway with a hand to his head.

“Here’s luck,” said I quietly.

Then I put the bottle to his lips and helped him to drink.

“That’s better,” he said at last. “I’ll be all right in a minute. Curse this heat.”

I took the bottle from him to set it down, but I could not find the table and put out my other hand to act as a sounding-rod.

Almost at once it brushed something soft and, warm to the touch.

It was a girl’s cheek.

I recoiled naturally. Then a dreadful suspicion leaped into my mind.

Desperately I strove to disprove it – only to prove it true.

The girl’s head was down on the table, and she was sleeping like the dead.

The wine was our own wine, and the box was the one we had sat in ten minutes before.

If time had seemed precious but a moment ago, I had now set up the sand-glass in very truth.

George Hanbury’s minutes were numbered. In a quarter of an hour, at most, he would be down and out, and how long he would be senseless heaven alone could tell.

When I told him what I had done, I heard him start. Then he threw back his head and began to laugh.

“You must admit it’s funny,” he said. “The vicious circle’s nothing. We’ve looped the immoral loop. That’s not so bad for a drug-fiend. I wonder how long I shall last.”

But I could not laugh with him, and I think he only jested for my sake to keep up my heart.

How we had missed the stairs I could not conceive. They could not be hard of access, for everyone else on our level had been gone out of earshot before we were out of our box. Yet we had passed no staircase, nor so much as a gap in the wall.

Suddenly I saw that the stairs must lead out of a dummy box and that we must have gone clean past them, expecting and trying to find them upon the opposite side…

At once we decided to make a great effort to gain them before the drug took effect. This, of course, by entering every box until we came to the dummy that hid the head of the stairs.

I was now armed in some sort, for I had never put down the mischievous bottle of wine, and, though I longed for a pistol, I felt sorry for whoever might oppose me until the bottle was broke.

We entered the passage again, using what caution we could and listening carefully, for the hubbub below us was fainter and an echo answered such cries as still arose.

We had entered, I think, three boxes without result and were in the act of emerging to try the fourth when the flash of a light behind us betrayed a torch.

At once we shrank back, and when I had put the door to, I watched the light approaching by means of the crack I had left.

Its approach was slow and fitful. Now the beam was thrown forward to flood the passage with light, and now it was plainly directed into a box, for, when the passage was dark, I could see the play of its radiance upon the fronts of the boxes on the other side of the floor. Whoever was using the torch was making a thorough search.

Very soon I heard the footfalls of more than one man, and George, who was now armed as I was, touched my arm.

“Let them come in,” he whispered, “and meet it on the back of the head.”

I nodded my assent.

Three boxes away, however, the search came to an end.

“By —, they’ve gone!” screeched Grieg. “This is their — box. Go and fetch one of those swine from the head of the stairs.”

Somebody blundered off the way they had come, and Grieg stood still waiting, with his torch pointing down at the ground.

So far as I could judge, the stairs were some ten boxes distant, for, after perhaps half a minute, I saw a fresh light approaching and heard the steps of two men.

Grieg hailed the newcomer fiercely.

“You’ve let them go by, you —. They’re not up here.”

“They must be,” declared the other.

“I tell you they’re not,” raved Grieg. “I’ve been into every box.”

His words amazed me, for I could have sworn them untrue. Yet why should Grieg be lying? Why…

Then in a flash I perceived the peculiar truth.

Our ‘vicious circle’ had saved us as nothing else could have done. Grieg must have entered our box very soon after we had left it by climbing into the next and, finding us gone,
immediately followed behind us
, searching the boxes as he went. And now he had gone full circle, as we had done, and, because he had not found us, believed us escaped.

“Every — box,” Grieg repeated, stamping his foot.

I could hear the man protesting that we had not gone by the stairs.

“Then where are they gone?” barked Grieg. “Answer me that.”

“They have not gone by,” said the other, “since the lights were put out. With my torch I saw every being that used the stairs.”

“I saw them myself in this box the instant before.”

“Then are they here, Major.” Instinctively he lowered his voice. “Perhaps—”

“I tell you I’ve been the round, and they’re not on this floor. Is there any way out but the staircase?”

“There’s a trap in the roof,” said the other. “But how could they ever find that in darkness like this? I could not find it myself. It leads out of one of the boxes, but I cannot say which.”

“Seventeen,” murmured his companion.

“Is it shut?” said Grieg.

“It is always shut,” said the other – a statement I fully believed.

There was a moment’s silence.

Then—

“Very good,” said Grieg, grimly. “It comes down to this. If they didn’t go by you, the swine must be here.”

“I have said so, Major.”

“Not so fast,” said Grieg. “It follows that, if they’re
not
here, they must have gone through your hands.” He paused significantly. “Now we’re going to look once more – you and I together, my friend. I’ll go round this way and you can go that, and if we don’t find them between us – I go to Weber tomorrow at ten o’clock. But for me, he’d have closed this hell-hole two years ago.”

With that, he bade the third man repair to the head of the stairs, and the fellow was off like a rabbit, as though he were glad to be gone.

The next moment the search had begun.

Here let me say that, though all these things have taken some time to tell, not more than five minutes had passed since Hanbury had drunk the drugged wine, and, as the two girls had survived for some fifteen minutes, I began to have hope that we might yet win safety before he collapsed. But George had, of course, drunk deep and had taken his portion at a draught.

Now, which way Grieg was going I could not tell, but I prayed that he was coming our, way; for he was sure to be armed, and if I could knock him senseless, his pistol, I was ready to wager, would bring us clear of the place.

With this heathenish prayer on my lips, I drew back into a corner beside the door, while George took his stand on the opposite side of the box.

From where I now stood, I could no longer see the light of our enemy’s torch, and, what was disconcerting, I could not hear him approaching or any sound that he made.

Feverishly I strained my ears.

If they had changed their plan, and he was not coming, our course must be altered, too. If—

There, I think, my heart stood still. The fellow was at the next box – I could hear the movement of his clothing as he lifted an arm.

If he gave that sign of his presence he gave no more, and though the moments slid by he never moved. He seemed to have made up his mind to stay still where he was.

It occurred to me that he had heard us – was listening again, to make sure, before he gave the alarm. This was now possible, for the floor of the house was empty, and in place of the recent uproar, a horrid, deadly silence possessed the place. In the distance a glass shivered, and I guessed that his fellow was to blame. What remained of the drugged wine had already soaked my shirt-sleeve, and all my forearm was wet.

All these things I digested, but the man never moved. He might have known that time was his ally and that the longer he waited the nearer George came to collapse.

The box smelled very stale. Perfume, tobacco and liquor had done their work, and the sordid plush and hangings told an offensive tale. Yet people had sat there that night and would sit there the next and the next – unless Weber…

The man was moving.

As he entered the box I hit him full on the temple – an ugly blow. The bottle shivered, and the fellow reeled against George, who held him up.

I caught his torch as he dropped it, and together we laid him down.

I turned the beam on to his face. This was streaming with blood, but I knew it for the face of the man who had greeted us on our arrival and brought us upstairs…

I flashed the torch round the box for Grieg to see, and listened with all my might.

No sound came to my ears. The noise of the bottle breaking had meant nothing to Grieg.

“George,” I whispered, “are you fit?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “A – a little drowsy, you know.”

“We’ll do it yet,” said I. “Box Seventeen.”

I felt the man’s pockets for a pistol, but he had no weapon upon him nor had one fallen from his hand.

The next box was numbered ‘Twelve.’

Hoping very much that Grieg was not so sure of his bearings as to find suspicious the sudden advance of our torch, we hastened along the passage to ‘Box Seventeen’. A glance at the filthy roof showed us the trap.

At the same instant, in the box directly opposed, we saw the flash of Grieg’s torch. Any moment its beam might betray us, but in view of George’s condition I dared not wait.

In an instant I had set the table beneath the trap, and, while George held the sorry block steady, I mounted and put up my hands.

I was able to touch the trap – with two inches to spare.

Now the trap was neither hinged nor fastened, but only sunk into place, and I had it free in a moment and ready to come away: but I dared not cast it outward for fear of the clatter it might make, so I disengaged it carefully and lifted it clear and down.

“Here, George,” I whispered, and gave it into his hands.

He received it, certainly, but the wood was heavy, and I had asked too much of my failing friend.

Somehow he let it go, and it fell with a hollow clatter that could have been heard in the street.

“Oh, my God,” he said faintly: and Grieg called out sharply and I saw the eye of his torch.

I was down on the floor with an arm about Hanbury’s shoulders, holding him up.

“One more effort,” I breathed. “On to the table, George, and I’ll put you up.”

I felt him brace himself. Then he mounted the table and put up his arms.

“Ready?” said I, taking hold, and felt him nod.

I thrust with all my might, and I am a powerful man.

He was up, out – waist-high out of the trap, when his body suddenly sagged.

The last effort had been too much, or – irony of ironies – the fresh air had abetted the drug.

“George!” I shouted. “George!”

I might have called upon the dead.

He hung there, between earth and heaven, with his arms spread without the building and me below, like Atlas, holding him up.

And after a little, finding his weight too heavy, I let him slide back slowly into my arms.

Then I laid him down on the floor, took off my overcoat and waited for Grieg.

I had now no weapon, for George had lost his bottle and there was none in the box: but my nerves were much more steady than they had been when I was waiting to fell Grieg’s man. This may seem curious, for our plight was now more desperate than it had been before, but I have once or twice been at variance and have found the entrance to a quarrel more trying than the quarrel itself.

Had I had time I would have carried George Hanbury into another box, for Grieg must have seen our endeavour to escape, by the roof and, if he remembered the number, would make straight for ‘Box Seventeen’: but I dared not be caught in the passage with George in my arms and, as I dismissed the notion, I heard the murmur of voices five or six paces away.

Grieg was bringing the men from the head of the stairs.

I cannot think why I had failed to foresee so obvious a move. But at least I could read its lesson – that three men armed to one whose hands are empty are odds which no one can face.

In a flash I was out of the box and was wrenching at the handle of its door – the handle without, which a man must use to come in. Happily the metal was base, for almost at once it snapped. I whipped back into the box and slammed the door.

As I did so, three men came running…

I heard Grieg feel for the handle and let out a frightful curse. A moment later he flung his weight upon the door.

For this at least I was ready, for my back was braced against the opposite side, and so far from budging the woodwork, I think he but bruised himself, for he did not repeat his assault.

It now seemed clear that they would attempt to enter from one of the boxes which stood upon either side, but I did not envy them the venture and I do not think they liked it themselves, for they whispered a lot together before I saw the glow of a torch emerging from the box on the right.

I had turned to counter this manoeuvre in some confidence and was flat against the side of the box, awaiting the arm or the leg which must be thrown round the partition and over the balustrade when a deafening roar on my left told me that Grieg had fired directly into the lock of the door.

This, however, did not fly open, and the fellow flung himself against it with a passionate oath.

A kick would have done the business.

Beneath his weight, the door gave way, as though it had never been latched: not meeting the resistance he looked for, Grieg crashed into the box and, fouling the table, fell headlong on to the floor.

I was upon him in an instant, and, remembering that he was left-handed, had caught his left wrist, whilst with my other hand I took the man by the throat.

For a second, perhaps, he lay still. Then he struck me a blow on the temple that I can feel to this day. I thought my neck was broken, but, though I felt sick and dazed, I had the sense to hold on and to raise my elbow to parry his second blow. I felt his fingers seeking my throat, but I had the reach, and though his nails scratched me he could not take hold. Then he heaved like a horse that is down, and before I knew what was happening, the fellow was up on his knees, and so was I.

He had, of course, hoisted himself by the balustrade, but I think that movement will show the strength he had, for he had to lift both of us up, and I am a heavy man.

Again he sought my throat, but I shook him off. And that I think was a feint, for an instant later he gave another heave and brought us up to our feet. As we came up he turned and, before I could get my balance, I was back to the balustrade.

I now saw that he meant, if he could, to break my back, and that each of his three great efforts had been made to that end. Them I had not foreseen: but now, by the grace of God, I foresaw the fourth.