Part 11 (2/2)
”Do come, Monsieur Joos,” said Irene, speaking for the first time since the tragedy. ”By remaining here you risk your life to no purpose.”
”We are coming now, ma'm'selle.”
Suddenly the miller's alert eye was caught by a spasmodic movement in the limbs of the last man whom Dalroy struck down. ”_Tiens!_” he cried, ”that fellow isn't finished with yet.”
He was making for the prostrate form with that terrible fork when Dalroy ran swiftly, and collared him. ”Stop that!” came the angry command. ”A fair fight must not degenerate into murder. Out you get now, or I'll throw you out!”
Joos laughed. ”You're making a mistake, monsieur,” he said. ”These Prussians don't fight that way. They'd kill you just for the fun of the thing if you were tied hand and foot. But let the rascal live if it pleases you. As for this one,” and he spurned Busch's body with his foot, ”he's done. Did you hear him? He squealed like a pig.”
Dalroy was profoundly relieved when the automatic pistols and ammunition were collected, the lamp extinguished, the door closed, and the whole party had pa.s.sed through a garden and orchard to the gloom of the ravine. The hour was about half-past eight o'clock. Twenty-four hours earlier he and Irene were about to leave Cologne by train, believing with some degree of confidence that they might be allowed to cross the frontier without let or hindrance! Life was then conventional, with a spice of danger. Now it had descended in the social scale until they ranked on a par with the dog that had gone mad and must be slain at sight. The German code of war is a legal paraphrase of the trickster's formula, ”Heads I win, tails you lose.” The armies of the Fatherland are ordered to practise ”frightfulness,” and so terrorise the civil population that the inhabitants of the stricken country will compel their rulers to sue for peace on any terms. But woe to that same civil population if some small section of its members resists or avenges any act of ”frightfulness.” Soldiers might murder the Widow Jaquinot and ravish her granddaughter, officers might plan a b.e.s.t.i.a.l orgy in the miller's house; but Dalroy and Joos and Maertz, in punis.h.i.+ng the one set of crimes and preventing another, had placed themselves outside the law.
Neither Joos nor Maertz cared a farthing rushlight about the moral consequences of that deadly struggle in the kitchen, but Dalroy was in different case. He knew the certain outcome. Small wonder if his heart was heavy and his brow seamed. His own fate was of slight concern, since he had ceased to regard life as worth more than an hour's purchase at any time from the moment he leaped down into the station yard at Aix-la-Chapelle. But it was hard luck that the accident of mere a.s.sociation should have bound up Irene Beresford's fortunes so irrevocably with his. Was there no way out of the maze in which they were wandering? What, for instance, had Jan Maertz meant by his cryptic statements?
”We must halt here,” Dalroy said authoritatively, stopping short in the shadow of a small clump of trees on the edge of the ravine, a place whence there was a fair field of view, yet so close to dense brushwood that the best of cover was available instantly if needed.
”Why?” demanded Joos. ”I know every inch of the way.”
”I want to question Maertz,” said Dalroy shortly. ”But don't let me delay you on that account. Indeed, I advise you to go ahead, and safeguard Madame Joos and your daughter. I would even persuade, if I can, Mademoiselle Beresford to go with you.”
”I don't mind listening to Jan's yarn myself,” grunted the miller. ”And isn't it time we had some supper? Killing Prussians is hungry work. Did you hear Busch? He squealed like a pig.--Leontine, cut some chunks of beef and bread, and open one of these bottles of wine.”
There was solid sense in the old man's crude rejoinder. Criminals about to suffer the death penalty often enjoy a good meal. These six people, who had just escaped death, or--where the women were concerned--a degradation worse than death, and before whose feet the grave might yawn wide and deep at once and without warning, were nevertheless greatly in want of food.
So they ate as they talked.
Maertz's story was coherent enough when set forth in detail. He was dazed and shaken by the fall from the wagon; but, helped by the sentry, who bore witness that the collision was no fault of his, being the outcome of obedience to the officer's order, he contrived to calm the startled horses. The officer even offered to find a few men later who would help to pull the wagon out of the ditch, so Jan was told to ”stand by” until the column had pa.s.sed. Meaning no harm, he asked what had become of his pa.s.sengers. This naturally evoked other questions, and a search was made, with the result that the lamp and Dalroy's discarded sabots were found. The lamp, of course, was numbered, and carried the initials of a German state railway; but this ”exhibit” only bore out Maertz's statement that a man from Aix had come in the wagon to explain to Joos why the consignment of oats had been so long held up in the goods yard.
In fact, a squad of soldiers had put the wagon right, and were reloading it, when the bodies of Heinrich and his companion were discovered in the stable. Suspicion fell at once on the missing pair.
Maertz would have been shot out of hand if an infuriated officer had not recollected that by killing the Walloon he would probably destroy all chance of tracing the man who had ”murdered” two of his warriors. So Maertz was arrested, and dumped into a cellar until such time as a patrol could take him to Vise and investigate matters there.
Meanwhile the unforeseen resistance offered to the invaders along the line of the Meuse and neighbourhood of Liege was throwing the German military machine out of gear. In this initial stage of the campaign ”the best organised army in the world” was like a powerful locomotive engine fitted with every mechanical device for rapid advance, but devoid of either brakes or reversing gear. As the 7th and 10th Divisions recoiled from the forts of Liege in something akin to disastrous defeat, congestion and confusion spread backward to the advanced base at Aix.
Hospital trains from the front compelled other trains laden with reserves and munitions to remain in sidings. The roads became blocked.
Brigades of infantry and cavalry, long lines of guns and wagons, were halted during many hours. Frantic staff-officers in powerful cars were alternately urging columns to advance and demanding a clear pa.s.sage to the rear and the headquarters staff. No regimental commandant dared think and act for himself. He was merely a cog in the machine, and the machine had broken down. Actually, the defenders of Liege held up the Kaiser's legions only a few days, but it is no figure of speech to say that when General Leman dropped stupefied by an explosion in Fort Loncin he had established a double claim to immortality. Not only had he shattered the proud German legend of invincibility in the field, but he had also struck a deadly blow at German strategy. With Liege and Leman out of the way, it would seem to the student of war that the invaders must have reached Paris early in September. They made tremendous strides later in the effort to maintain their ”time-table,” but they could never overtake the days lost in the valley of the Meuse.
What a tiny p.a.w.n was Jan Maertz in this game of giants! How little could he realise that his very existence depended on the shock of opposing empires!
The communications officer at the cross-roads had not a moment to spare for many an hour after Jan's execution was deferred. At last, about nightfall, when the 9th Division got into motion again, he s.n.a.t.c.hed a slight breathing-s.p.a.ce. Remembering the prisoner, he detailed a corporal and four men to march him to Vise and make the necessary inquiries at Joos's mill.
For Maertz's benefit he gave the corporal precise instructions. ”If this fellow's story is proved true, and you find the man and the woman he says he brought from Aachen, return here with the three of them, and full investigation will be made. If no such man and woman have arrived at the mill, and the prisoner is shown to be a liar, shoot him out of hand.”
A young staff-officer, a lieutenant of the Guards, stretching his legs while his chauffeur was refilling the petrol-tank, overheard the loud-voiced order, and took a sudden and keen interest in the proceedings.
”One moment,” he said imperatively, ”what's this about a man and a woman brought from Aachen? Who brought them? And when?”
The other explained, laying stress, of course, on the fractured skulls of two of his best men.
”Hi, you!” cried the Guardsman to Maertz, ”describe these two.”
Maertz did his best. Dalroy, to him, was literally a railway employe; but his recollection of Irene's appearance was fairly exact. Moreover, he was quite reasonably irritated and alarmed by the trouble they had caused. Then the lamp and sabots were produced, and the questioner swore mightily.
”Leave this matter entirely in my hands,” he advised his confrere. ”It is most important that these people should be captured, and this is the very fellow to do it. I'll promise him his life, and the safety of his friends, and pay him well into the bargain, if he helps me to get hold of that precious pair. You see, we shall have no difficulty in catching and identifying him again if need be. Personally, I believe he is telling the absolute truth, and is no more responsible for the killing of your men than you are.”
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