Chapter XXV: An Awkward Plight Indeed

The second clamour of the police at the doors below brought me to my senses; and luckily I was the first man to throw off the apathy of alarm which their coming had caused.

If any of us were to escape, it could only be by the river; and I set about making a desperate attempt to get away by that means and to take the Baron with me.

As I had had to carry my life in my hands when coming into the building, and had been fully alive to the fact that my safety might depend upon my knowing how to get out of it again without even a second's hesitation, I had observed with scrupulous care the means of exit.

The room in which we all were was the larger of the pair of offices, the two doors of which I had seen when hiding in the outer warehouse. The partitions were of rough matchboarding, and I noticed now that the door fastened with a spring lock.

The only light we had was from a lantern standing on the table, and my first step was to knock this off the table. I used the instant of consternation which followed to spring at the fellow who had entered last and was holding the door, thrust him away, and slam the door.

The hubbub and confusion which followed were indescribable, and the air reeked with the curses and execrations of the men, who appeared to have only a very slight acquaintance with the plan of the place.

They were all jammed together in a body, close to the door, and struggling, swearing, and fighting one another in their frantic efforts to get out.

Not one of them had a thought to spare for the helpless old man on the table, and I picked him up and ran through to the smaller room beyond. One of the five had known of this other exit, and he was at the door as I reached it. He got out before me and turned to call to the rest.

Which of them it was I don't know, but I struck at him and hit him hard enough to send him sprawling along the floor of the warehouse; and before he could regain his feet I was well on my way down the stairs to the wharf.

The police meantime were thundering at the doors which let out upon the lane and beginning to break them in, and as I reached the bottom I heard the men above rushing after me down the stairs. It was a question of seconds now.

I slammed behind me the door which let out on to the wharf, and a glance showed me where the boat lay in which the men had arrived. I darted to it, slid the Baron into the bows, and with my heart in my mouth cast the painter loose and jumped in, just as the rest of the men came streaming out on to the wharf.

They gave a yell of rage as they caught sight of me, and one of them--the brute who had been so in tent on taking my life--ran along the stage and jumped after me.

I had not been able to push the boat off any distance but had seized hold of one of the oars. He landed in the boat, nearly capsizing her; but before he could recover his balance, I thrust the end of the oar into his stomach and sent him overboard.

The next instant I was pulling down stream for my life. The wharf and all upon it were soon lost in the gloom, and the sounds of a struggle, presumably between my late companions and the police, grew gradually fainter and fainter as I increased the distance between us.

I had succeeded in escaping for the moment, but my troubles were by no means over. The men whom my flight had so enraged would tell the police all about me and the direction in which I had gone, and in a short time the river would be alive with parties searching for me.

To remain in the boat for long was therefore out of the question, and yet I could not leave it safely. The trouble was of course what to do with my companion.

But for him, I would have landed at once and have made my way home. But he could not walk a step, and indeed, when I stopped rowing for a moment to examine him, I found that he was once more unconscious.

I considered very carefully whether the really best course in both our interests would not be to abandon him and get my story of all that had occurred to Feldermann or even to Herr Borsen. It was all important that I should get my version of the affair to the authorities first; and I was confident that the knowledge I possessed in regard to von Felsen would enable me to secure the Baron's pardon as well as clear myself.

But I could not face Althea and tell her that I had found her father, that he was desperately ill, but that I had left him drifting in an open boat on the river while I made sure of my own skin.

I must find some other plan than that. By hook or crook I must manage to get him to some sort of shelter. Where to look for one, or even how to set about the search, puzzled me consumedly.

My vague idea was that I might be able to discover some cottage where a few marks would secure what was wanted; and as it was certain that nothing of the sort would be found down the stream and in the middle of the city, I pulled across the river and, hugging the banks as closely as practicable, I doubled on my tracks, and rowed as hard as I could upstream.

I did not get through without a couple of disquieting scares. I had been rowing for a long time and was resting to take breath when I heard the sound of oars in the distance. I could not be certain whether the sound was coming up or down the stream, so I paddled quietly into the side, shoved the nose of the boat into some reeds on the bank, and lay down.

It proved to be a false alarm, however. The boat was coming down stream, and I judged it to be either some early fishermen or some peasants taking produce down to the market.

But this decided me to abandon the river at once. It was now close to the dawn; and if we were seen, the news would be told to any one in pursuit; and my thought was to destroy all traces of our course by sinking the boat.

I rowed across the river again, therefore, and picked up my companion and carried him ashore. This roused him, and as I laid him down he began to babble and chatter with all the inconsequence of an imbecile.

I then undressed and pushed off into the river again, drew out the bung, and wedged the oars under the thwarts. When the boat was nearly full I plunged into the water, hung on to the stern until she sank, and then swam ashore.

While dressing I felt the bomb in my pocket and the revolver which I had taken from the men in the warehouse. The Baron had been watching me with the intent stare of lunacy; but the moment his eyes fell on the bomb, some chain of thought appeared to be linked up in his bewildered wits, and he came at me and tried to get possession of it.

But I flung it far out into the river and sent the revolver after it. This appeared to enrage him; for he began to fight with me with more strength than I could have believed possible after his experiences of the long night of hardship, and kept up an incessant stream of angry invective.

In the midst of it, I heard the throbbing of an approaching launch, and knew at once that this time it must be the police. There was sufficient light now for any one on the river to be able to see us where we were, especially if any sound of his voice attracted their attention.

It was an awkward predicament and a dangerous one too. I had no alternative but to use force. Some bushes were close by, so I caught him up in my arms, thrust one hand over his mouth, and dragged him to shelter, where I had to lie at full length upon him to keep him quiet until the launch had passed.

I told him that the police were close upon us, but he would not or could not understand; and he writhed and wriggled to free himself the whole of the time the launch was passing, and indeed until the snort of its engines was no longer to be heard.

When I released him, he got up and tried to rush away; and again I had to drag him back and use force to hold him. But his efforts had weakened him considerably, or perhaps the paroxysm of rage had passed; for he lay comparatively quiet, while I tried to think what to do next.

I was some miles from the city, in a district of which I knew nothing; the light was strengthening every minute; I had a madman to take charge of; and must either get him back safely and secretly to my house, or at least find some sort of shelter where he could remain under supervision.

The first step was of course to get far enough away from the river bank not to be seen by any one on the look out for us.

But nothing would induce him to leave the waterside. He retained in his poor crazed brain some remnants of recollection of the scheme to destroy the cruiser and the fact that it had to be done on the river, and for this purpose the impulse to stay near the water was irresistible.

I tried to reason with him and to make him understand the danger of his being arrested; every argument and persuasion I could think of: but it was absolutely useless; and when at length I essayed to force him to come away, he set up struggling and yelling.

I had to employ force again. I fastened my handkerchief over his mouth as a gag; for his cries were loud enough to be heard at some distance; and then carried him away across some fields for some few hundred yards.

I began to consider again very carefully whether in both our interests it would not be best for me to abandon him and hurry back to the city alone; but I could not bring myself to desert the helpless old man. I must find some other plan than that. I must get him to some sort of shelter, and that one consideration must determine everything else.

Another spell of weakness followed my last exercise of force; and when I took off the gag and released my hold of him, he remained quiet. I sat and watched him, hoping that he would sleep, and that the sleep would to some extent soothe his excitement and reduce his delirium.

He did fall asleep, and for an hour or so I watched him. He started every now and then and talked a little, murmuring some fragments of sentences. I heard Althea's name, and mine, and stray references to his country; but I paid little attention. The truth was I myself was so overcome with fatigue, that it was with the utmost difficulty I could keep my eyes open.

When he woke, he was much calmer and spoke almost rationally. I explained the position and he seemed to understand it; and when I said our safety depended upon our getting to some place of shelter, he agreed. But I noticed that he would not look me in the face, and kept eyeing me furtively with quick, stealthy glances, lowering his head each time I looked at him.

This was a small matter, however; and as he rose readily to go with me, I was more hopeful than I had been at any time before.

But I found that I was used up. I could scarcely drag one leg after the other; and when after some time I saw a cattle shed with the door invitingly ajar, the desire for rest, the imperative need for it, indeed, took too strong a hold of me to be resisted.

I found some fodder lying in one corner of the place and on this he lay down immediately, declaring that he was worn out, In the hope that the rest, even without sleep, would serve to refresh me, I sat up and watched while he slept as quietly and peacefully as a child.

But nature would not be denied; and when I caught myself nodding drowsily, I fastened his wrist to mine with my handkerchief, and lay back with an intense sigh of relief. I was a light sleeper at all times, and was confident that the least movement of my companion would rouse me.

My confidence was misplaced, however. I must have slept very soundly, for when I woke the sun was high in the heavens streaming in through the wide open door, and a man, presumably the owner of the barn, was standing over me with a pitchfork in his hand, demanding very angrily what I meant by sleeping there.

And the Baron was gone!

One end of the handkerchief was still fastened to my wrist, but the other was dangling loose.

"You'll come to the police, you rascal," cried the farmer. "Who are you and what the devil do you mean by being here? Where do you come from?"

He flung the questions at me as I sat up rubbing my eyes and blinking stupidly at him.

I made an effort to rise, but he threatened me with the fork. "Lie still, or you'll have something else than bread in your belly for breakfast," he threatened.

I saw the force of the argument and obeyed. "I am sorry you take it so ill. I have done no harm and----"

I began, but he cut me short.

"No harm, you dirty rascal. It's scoundrels like you that are the pest of the country--lazy, loafing tramps sneaking about and stealing whatever you can lay your hands on"; and he let himself go on what was evidently a sore subject with him. His fury was out of all proportion to the cause of it, even supposing I had been the tramp he deemed me.

To argue with any one in such a rage as possessed him at that moment was obviously useless, however, so I let him storm and abuse me as he pleased. While he held that fork, I knew that any retort from me might make him use it.

He mistook my calmness for fear, and as he warmed to the congenial work of abusing me, he grew more threatening with his weapon, and flourished it about in such a way that I expected any moment to find it plunged into my body. I simulated dire alarm, and cringed and winced at his gestures in a way that gave him huge delight.

But it also led him to give me the chance for which I was waiting; and when at last an opportunity came, I dragged the fork out of his grasp, jumped to my feet, and placed myself between him and the door.

For once at any rate I traded on somebody else's evil reputation. The farmer ran rapidly down the scale through surprise to almost abject fright. He stood shaking in every limb with his eyes darting from the fork to my face, as if he expected me to treat him to the same sort of breakfast as that with which he had so glibly threatened me.

"I didn't mean it," he stammered. "I know you have done no harm. It'll be all right, my man. You can go."

"I'm glad you've changed your tone, but you've made a mistake about me. I hope you can see that."

"I do. I do," he cried readily, his eyes still fixed warily on the pitchfork. I turned and tossed it away behind me, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"If I have done any harm I'll pay you," I said, taking out some money. "How much? Five marks, ten marks? By the way, what time is it? My watch has stopped," and I pulled it out with a view to impress him still further.

It had the due effect, and his manner changed again; but he was not quite free from suspicion. "I do not charge for such a trifle," he said, with an air of nervous apology mingled with doubt.

"I am quite willing to pay you and quite able to. And if you can give me some breakfast, not of that sort"--I laughed as I pointed round to the fork--"I shall be happy to pay for that also. I lost my way in the night, and overcome with fatigue I lay down to sleep. I had a friend with me, but he must have got up and gone out while I slept. Here, you'll want this, I suppose;" and I picked up the fork and handed it to him. "Shall we walk up to your house? If I had seen it in the night we should have knocked you up."

As I handed him the fork, he looked at me and then a smile spread slowly over his broad face, as my easy manner drove home the conviction that I really was not the desperate character for whom he had mistaken me.

"You can have some breakfast, and welcome; but it's nearer dinner-time. It's close to midday."

I wound up my watch and set it to the correct time, which he gave me. "I suppose you haven't seen anything of my friend?" I asked carelessly.

"No--at least no one who has said anything about having a friend anywhere about here; but we had a stranger at the house this morning asking for some food. But he's a very old man and ill."

It was the Baron, right enough, and the good news excited me greatly.

"That's the man," I cried eagerly. "He is ill. Let's push on to the house at once"; and I hurried on at a rapid pace.