Part 5 (1/2)

”Once more, accursed Englishman will you open the door?”

”No.”

A torrent of savage oaths--then a pause.

”Force us to break it open, and it will be the worse for you!”

”Try.”

All this time I had been wrenching out the hooks from the dresser, and the nails, wherever I could find any, from the walls. Already I had enough to reload the blunderbuss three times, with my three charges of powder. If only Bergheim were himself now!...

I still heard the murmuring of the brothers' voices outside--then the sound of their retreating footsteps--then an outburst of barking and yelping at the back, which showed they had let loose the dogs. Then all was silent.

Where were they gone? How would they begin the attack? In what way would it all end? I glanced at my watch. It was just twenty minutes past one.

In two hours and at half, or three hours, it would be dawn. Three hours!

Great Heavens! what an eternity!

I looked round to see if there was anything I could still do for defence; but it seemed to me that I had already done what little it was possible to do with the material at hand. I could only wait.

All at once I heard their footsteps in the house again. They were going rapidly to and fro overhead; then up and down the stairs; then overhead again; and presently I heard a couple of bolts shot, and apparently a heavy wooden bar put up, on the other side of the inner kitchen-door which I had just been at so much pains to barricade. This done, they seemed to go away. A distant door banged heavily; and again there was silence.

Five minutes, ten minutes, went by. Bergheim still slept heavily; but his breathing, I fancied, was less stertorous, and his countenance less rigid, than when I first discovered his condition. I had no water with which to bathe his head; but I rubbed his forehead and the palms of his hands with beer, and did what I could to keep his body upright.

Then I heard the enemy coming back to the front, slowly, and with heavy footfalls. They paused for a moment at the front door, seemed to set something down, and then retreated quickly. After an interval of about three minutes, they returned in the same way; stopped at the same place; and hurried off as before. This they did several times in succession.

Listening with suspended breath and my ear against the keyhole, I distinctly heard them deposit some kind of burden each time--evidently a weighty burden, from the way in which they carried it; and yet, strange to say, one that, despite its weight, made scarcely any noise in the setting down.

Just at this moment, when all my senses were concentrated in the one act of listening, Bergheim stirred for the first time, and began muttering.

”The man!” he said, in a low, suppressed tone. ”The man under the hearth!”

I flew to him at the first sound of his voice. He was recovering. Heaven be thanked, he was recovering! In a few minutes we should be two--two against two--right and might on our side--both ready for the defence of our lives!

”One man under the hearth,” he went on, in the same unnatural tone.

”Four men at the bottom of the pond--all murdered--foully murdered!”

I had scarcely heeded his first words; but now, as their sense broke upon me, that great rush of exultation and thankfulness was suddenly arrested. My heart stood still; I trembled; I turned cold with horror.

Then the veins swelled on his forehead; his face became purple; and he struck out blindly, as one oppressed with some horrible nightmare.

”Blood!” he gasped. ”Everywhere blood--don't touch it. G.o.d's vengeance--help!”...

And so, struggling violently in my arms, he opened his eyes, stared wildly round, and made an effort to get upon his feet.

”What is the matter?” he said, sinking back again, and trembling from head to foot. ”Was I asleep?”

I rubbed his hands and forehead again with beer. I tasted it, and finding no ill flavour upon it, put a tiny drop to his lips.