Part 11 (1/2)
Near a staircase--not that which led to the lofts, but the main stairway of the domestic part of the dwelling--Madame Joos was struggling in the grip of the orderly and one of the lieutenants. Another of these heroes--they all belonged to a Westphalian detachment of the commissariat--was endeavouring to overpower Irene. His left arm pinned her left arm to her waist; his right arm had probably missed a similar hold, because the girl's right arm was free. She had seized his wrist, and was striving to ward off a brutal effort to prevent her from shrieking. Busch, that stout satyr, was seated. Dalroy learnt subsequently that the sudden hubbub arose because Irene resisted his attempt to pull her on to his knee. The last of the younger men was clasping Leontine to his breast with rascally intent to squeeze the breath out of her until she was unable to struggle further.
Now Dalroy had to decide in the fifth part of a second whence danger would first come, and begin the attack there. The four officers had laid aside their swords, but the lieutenants had retained belts and revolvers. Busch, as might be expected, was only too pleased to get rid of his equipment. His tunic was unb.u.t.toned, so that he might gorge at ease. Somehow, Dalroy knew that Irene would not free the hand which was now closing on her mouth. The two Walloons carried short forks with four p.r.o.ngs--Joos had taken to heart the Englishman's comment on the disadvantage of a pitchfork for close fighting--and Jan Maertz might be trusted to deal with the ruffian who was nearly strangling Leontine.
There remained the gallant lieutenant whose sense of humour permitted the belief that the best way to force onward a terrified elderly woman was to plant a knee against the small of her back. He had looked around at once when the door flew open, and his right hand was already on the b.u.t.t of an automatic pistol. Him, therefore, Dalroy bayoneted so effectually that a startled oath changed into a dreadful howl ere the words left his lips. The orderly happened to be nearer than the officer, so, as the bayonet did its work, Dalroy kicked the lout's feet from under him, and thrust him through the body while on the floor. A man who had once won the Dholepur Cup, which is competed for by the most famous pig-stickers in India, knew how to put every ounce of weight behind the keen point of a lance, because an enraged boar is the quickest and most courageous fighter among all the fierce creatures of the jungle. But he was slightly too near his quarry; the bayonet reached the stone floor through the man's body, and snapped at the forte.
Then he wheeled, and made for Irene's a.s.sailant.
The instant Dalroy appeared at the door the girl had caught the Prussian's thumb in her strong teeth, and not only bit him to the bone but held on. With a loud bellow of ”Help! Come quickly!” he released her, and struck fiercely with his left hand. Yet this gentle girl, who had never taken part in any more violent struggle than a school romp, had the presence of mind to throw herself backward, and thus discount the blow, while upsetting her adversary's balance. But her clenched teeth did not let go. It came out long afterwards that she was a first-rate gymnast. One day, moved by curiosity on seeing some performance in a circus, she had essayed the stage trick of hanging head downward from a cross-bar, and twirling around another girl's body girdled by a strap working on a swivel attached to a strong pad which she bit resolutely. Then she discovered a scientific fact which very few people are aware of. The jaw is, perhaps, the strongest part of the human frame, and can exercise a power relatively far greater than that of the hands. Of course, she could not have held out for long, but she did thwart and delay the maddened Prussian during two precious seconds.
Even when he essayed to choke her she still contrived to save herself by seizing his free hand.
By that time Dalroy had leaped to the rescue. Shortening the rifle in the way familiar to all who have practised the bayonet exercise, he drove it against the Prussian's neck. The jagged stump inflicted a wound which looked worse than it was; but the mere shock of the blow robbed the man of his senses, and he fell like a log.
In order to come within striking distance, Dalroy had to jump over Busch. Old Joos, piping in a weird falsetto, had sprung at the fat major and spitted him in the stomach with all four p.r.o.ngs of the fork. Busch toppled over backward with a fearsome howl, the chair breaking under his weight combined with a frantic effort to escape. The miller went with him, and dug the terrible weapon into his soft body as though driving it into a truss of straw. Maertz, a l.u.s.ty fellow, had made shorter work of his man, because one p.r.o.ng had reached the German's heart, and he was stilled at once. But Joos thrust and thrust again, even using a foot to bury the fork to its shoulder.
This was the most ghastly part of a thrilling episode. Busch writhed on the floor, screaming shrilly for mercy, and striving vainly to stay with his hands the deadly implement from eating into his vitals.
That despairing effort gave the miller a ghoulish satisfaction. ”Aha!”
he chortled, ”you laughed at Lafarge! Laugh now, you swine! _That's_ for the doctor, and _that's_ for my wife, and _that's_ for my daughter, and _that's_ for me!”
Dalroy did not attempt to stop him. These men must die. They had come to the mill to destroy; it was just retribution that they themselves should be destroyed. His coolness in this crisis was not the least important factor in a situation rife with peril. His method of attack had converted a fight against heavy odds into a speedy and most effectual slaughter. But that was only the beginning. Even while the frenzied yelling of the squirming Busch was subsiding into a frothy gurgle he went to the door and listened. A battery of artillery was pa.s.sing at a trot, and creating din enough to drown the cries of a hundred Busches.
He looked back over his shoulder. Madame Joos was on her knees, praying.
The poor woman had no thought but that her last hour had come. Happily, she was spared the sight of her husband's vengeance. Happily, too, none of the women fainted. Leontine was panting and sobbing in Maertz's arms. Irene, leaning against the wall near the fireplace, was gazing now at Joos, now at the fallen man at her feet, now at Dalroy. But her very soul was on fire. She, too, had yielded to the madness of a life-and-death struggle. Her eyes were dilated. Her bosom rose and fell with laboured breathing. Her teeth were still clenched, her lips parted as though she dreaded to find some loathsome taste on them.
Maertz seemed to have retained his senses, so Dalroy appealed to him.
”Jan,” he said quietly, ”we must go at once. Get your master and the others outside. Then extinguish the lamp. Hurry! We haven't a second to spare.”
Joos heard. Satisfied now that the fork had been effective, he straightened his small body and said shrilly, ”You go, if you like. I'll not leave my money to be burnt with my house.--Now, wife, stir yourself.
Where's that key?”
The familiar voice roused Madame Joos from a stupor of fear. She fumbled in her bodice, and produced a key attached to a chain of fine silver.
Her husband mounted nimbly on a chair, ran a finger along one of the heavy beams which roofed the kitchen, found a cunningly hidden keyhole, and unlocked a long, narrow receptacle which had been scooped out of the wood. A more ingenious, accessible, yet unlikely hiding-place for treasure could not readily be imagined. He took out a considerable sum of money in notes, gold, and silver. Though a man of wealth, with a substantial account in the state bank, he still retained the peasant's love of a personal h.o.a.rd.
Stowing away the money in various pockets, Joos got down off the chair.
Busch was dying, but he was not unconscious. He had even watched the miller's actions with a certain detached curiosity, and the old fellow seemed to become aware of the fact. ”So,” he cackled, ”you saw, did you? That should annoy you in your last hour, you fat thief.--Yes, yes, monsieur, I'll come now.--Leontine, stop blubbing, and tie up that piece of beef and some bread in a napkin. We fighting men must eat.--Jan, put the bottles of champagne and the pork-pie in a basket.--Leontine, run and get your own and your mother's best shoes. You can change them in the wood.”
”What wood?” put in Maertz.
”We can't walk to Maestricht by the main road, you fool.”
”That's all right for you and madame here, and for Leontine, perhaps.
But I remain in Belgium. My friends are fighting yonder at Liege, and I'm going to join them. And these others mustn't try it. The frontier is closed for them. I was offered my life only two hours ago if I arrested them.”
”Jan!” cried Leontine indignantly.
”It's true. Why should I tell a lie? I didn't understand then the sort of game the Prussians are playing. Now that I know----”
”Miss Beresford,” broke in Dalroy emphatically, ”if these good people will not escape when they may we must leave them to their fate.”