Part 14 (1/2)

CHAPTER VIII

A RESPITE

Never before in the course of a somewhat varied life had Dalroy felt so irresolute, so helplessly the victim of circ.u.mstances. Bereft of the local knowledge possessed by Joos and the other Belgians, any scheme he adopted must depend wholly on blind chance. The miller had described the wood as occupying a promontory in a bend of the Meuse, with steep cliffs forming the southern bank of the river. There was a tow-path; possibly, a series of narrow ravines or clefts gave precarious access from the plateau to this lower level. Probably, too, in the first shock of fright, the people in the hut had made for one of these cuttings, taking Irene with them. They believed, no doubt, that the Englishman had been shot or captured, and after that spurt of musketry so alarmingly near at hand the lower part of the wood would seem alive with enemies.

Dalroy blamed himself, not the others, for this fatal bungling. Before s.n.a.t.c.hing a much-needed rest he ought to have arranged with Joos a practicable line of retreat in the event of a night alarm. Of course he had imposed silence on all as a sort of compulsory relief from the tension of the earlier hours, but he saw now that he was only too ready to share the miller's confidence. Not without reason had poor Dr.

Lafarge warned his fellow-countrymen that ”there were far too many Germans in Belgium.” Schwartz and his like were to be found in every walk of life, from the merchant princes who controlled the trade of Antwerp to the youngest brush-haired waiter in the Cafe de la Regence at Brussels.

Dalroy was aware of a grim appropriateness in the fate of Schwartz. The German automatic pistols carried soft-nosed bullets, so the arch-traitor who murdered the Vise doctor had himself suffered from one of the many infernal devices brought by _Kultur_ to the battlefields of Flanders.

But the punishment of Schwartz could not undo the mischief the wretch had caused. The men he led knew the nature and purpose of their errand.

They would report to the first officer met on the main road, who might be expected to detail instantly a sufficient force for the task of clearing the wood. In fact, the operation had become a military necessity. There was no telling to what extent the locality was held by Belgian troops, as, of course, the runaway warriors would magnify the firing a hundredfold, and no soldier worth his salt would permit the uninterrupted march of an army corps along a road flanked by such a danger-point. In effect, Dalroy conceived a hundred reasons why he might antic.i.p.ate a sudden and violent end, but not one offering a fair prospect of escape. At any rate, he refused to be guilty of the folly of plunging into an unknown jungle of brambles, rocks, and trees, and elected to go back by the path to the foot of the quarry, whence he might, with plenty of luck, break through on a flank before the Germans spread their net too wide.

He had actually crossed some part of the clearing in front of the hut when his gorge rose at the thought that, win or lose in this game of life and death, he might never again see Irene Beresford. The notion was intolerable. He halted, and turned toward the black wall of the wood.

Mad though it was to risk revealing his whereabouts, since he had no means of knowing how close the nearest pursuers might be, he shouted loudly, ”Miss Beresford!”

And a sweet voice replied, ”Oh, Mr. Dalroy, they told me you were dead, but I refused to believe them!”

Dalroy had staked everything on that last despairing call, little dreaming that it would be answered. It was as though an angel had spoken from out of the black portals of death. He was so taken aback, his spirit was so shaken, that for a few seconds he was tongue-tied, and Irene appeared in the moonlit s.p.a.ce before he stirred an inch. She came from an unexpected quarter, from the west, or Argenteau, side.

”The others said I was a lunatic to return,” she explained simply; ”but, when I came to my full senses after being aroused from a sound sleep, and told to fly at once because the Germans were on us, I realised that you might have outwitted them again, and would be looking for us in vain. So, here I am!”

He ran to her. Now that they were together again he was swift in decision and resolute as ever. ”Irene,” he said, ”you're a dear. Where are our friends? Is there a path? Can you guide me?”

”Take my hand,” she replied. ”We turn by a big tree in the corner. I think Jan Maertz followed me a little way when he saw I was determined to go back.”

”I suppose I had unconscious faith in you, Irene,” he whispered, ”and that is why I cried your name. But no more talking now. Rapid, silent movement alone can save us.”

They had not gone twenty yards beneath the trees when some one hissed, ”Vise!”

”Liege, you lump!” retorted Dalroy.

”Monsieur, I----”

”Shut up! Hold mademoiselle's hand, and lead on.”

He did not ask whither they were going. The path led diagonally to the left, and that was what he wanted--a way to a flank.

Maertz, however, soon faltered and stopped in his tracks.

”The devil take all woods at night-time!” he growled. ”Give me the highroad and a wagon-team, and I'll face anything.”

”Are you lost?” asked Dalroy.

”I suppose so, monsieur. But they can't be far. I told Joos----”

”Jan, is that you?” cried Leontine's voice.

”_Ah, Dieu merci!_ These infernal trees----”