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