The Secret Witness by George Gibbs (book recommendations txt) 📕

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