Chapter XIII: The Conspirators

In a small farmhouse, situated some twenty-five miles from the château and lying well off the main road, two men sat and smoked in the dusk of evening. One of them was Heinrich, and the other man called Walther. Heinrich still wore a bandage round his leg where Fouchard’s bullet had punctured it, and when he got up to light the hanging lamp he limped slightly. Walther was a striking personality. He was over six feet in height and extremely well proportioned. His hair was as fair as a Swede’s, and was set off by wide-set, vivid blue eyes.

“It is a strange business,” he mused. “At first I was incredulous, but of course I was compelled to change my mind. How did you manage to get into this place?”

“Datel passes as an Alsatian, but he is an old friend of Niels. He is away at the moment. It’s time Niels was back.”

“What time did Bertha say?”

“Eight o’clock. It is now half-past eight, and Niels ought to do the journey in less than half an hour.”

“Thirty miles!”

“The car is wonderful, and Niels drives it like mad. That young Englishman will give Niels a certificate to that effect. He once tried to catch him.”

“What have these two Englishmen to do with the business?”

“Nothing. They happened to be staying with Fallières when--when it happened.”

“Horrible!”

“Yes. It ruined things, for it brought Fouchard down. But the Englishmen are a danger all the same. The young one is keen on mademoiselle, and is an awkward customer to deal with. His friend is also to be reckoned with. But for them mademoiselle would have fled and we should have had the place to ourselves.”

“It is a dangerous game.”

“Yes, and the sooner we gain our ends the better.” He glanced at the clock again. “I hope there has been no mishap with Niels. Fouchard has every place watched.”

“It was a narrow escape last time. If Bertha had not seen Fouchard taking the letter-- Good idea of Niels to leave her that pigeon.”

Heinrich nodded, and then started as he heard the rising drone of an engine.

“Niels!”

“Good!”

A minute later Niels entered with Bertha. The latter nodded at Heinrich and shook Walther’s hand warmly.

“So you got here safely?” she asked.

“Not without some trouble at the frontier. Why am I wanted at all?”

“Niels thought it best.”

The diminutive Niels, obviously the eldest of the party, pursed his thin lips, and, after offering Bertha a chair, sat down himself. His small, wiry body seemed bursting with vitality, and his beady eyes flashed as if illumined by an inner light.

“Things are in a mess,” he said. “We didn’t bargain on the forces that oppose us. The death of Severin has made things more dangerous still.”

“We--we ought to have prevented that,” said Bertha. “It is horrible.”

“How could we prevent it?” he snapped. “On the one occasion when we were so near success we were frustrated. But there must be no more failures. We have to prepare the ground in advance.”

“Yes,” agreed Heinrich. “I suppose there is no shadow of doubt about this? You must remember that up to now none of us has seen anything.”

“We shall,” retorted Niels. “Have no doubt about that. Steinbech’s information leaves no room for doubt. And the messages--who could have sent those but-- Did you hear a sound?”

“A rat in the rafters,” said Heinrich. “The place is infested with them. What is the next step, Niels?”

“We have to get rid of the two Englishmen.”

Bertha started at this. She looked keenly at Niels, and then shook her head.

“I will not be a party to bloodshed, Niels,” she said firmly. “If it cannot be achieved without that, I am done with it.”

“It never entered my mind,” growled Niels. “But I want them out of the way. We can deal with Fouchard afterwards.”

“But Mademoiselle Fallières!” ejaculated Bertha. “Without her guests she----”

“Precisely. Mademoiselle will quickly pack her bag and vacate the château. That is what I am aiming at.”

“You make a mistake, Niels,” said Bertha. “You do not know her so well as I. She has the courage of a lion. Though she is full of terror, she will not run away. For her sake I would rather those men stayed.”

“It is impossible. I mean to have my way, Bertha, for I have thought over every alternative, and none promises the slightest measure of success. And we must all act in harmony. What do you say, Heinrich?”

“I agree. I think Niels is right, Bertha. The two Englishmen are obstacles to success. We cannot hope to deal with three determined men at one time. What is your plan, Niels?”

“It involves some risk--to myself. I shall endeavour to lure the younger one after me by exposing myself--in the car. He has a fast car, and will give chase. His friend may accompany him, in which case we shall bag the two together.”

“Presuming we accomplish that much--what then?”

“I shall make it impossible for them to interfere for a few days at least.”

“You intend to keep them prisoners here?” asked Bertha.

“No. That would be too risky. It would mean that one of us would be out of action--looking after them. We cannot afford that. I had in mind Rupert.”

“Rupert!”

“He is lying off Gervaise at this moment, and will stay there until he hears from me.”

“But they may get back,” said Walther.

“Only after considerable delay. As an alternative there is Frankenstein’s clinic. They would be as safe there as anywhere in the world. You, Walther, could certify their insanity.”

“No,” gasped Bertha. “That would be horrible. We have nothing against those men--except that they are in the way. Frankenstein’s hospital would drive them crazy. Besides, it is over the frontier, and not so simple a matter to arrange as the Rupert idea.”

“You seem to have a rather keen regard for those men, Bertha,” said Niels, half closing one eye. “Since the younger one is half in love with Mademoiselle Fallières, I presume it is the elder one that has made an appeal to your impressionable heart.”

“Niels!”

“I warn you that love plays second fiddle in this business. Don’t let your heart run away with your head.”

Bertha’s face went scarlet, and she glared at the speaker in a way that would have frozen him had he been the type of man to be susceptible to such facial expressions of contempt.

“You are a devil, Niels,” she said. “What I fear is that you overreach yourself, and do something in a moment of passion that we shall live to regret. I will have nothing to do with the Frankenstein idea. Rupert can accomplish all that is necessary.”

“I agree,” said Walther.

“Very well. That will suit me. I will take the car to-morrow in the direction of the château. The valley road can be seen from the terrace. If that young speed-fiend sees me--as I hope he will--I shall head for Morgins. You remember the ruins on the corner of the Rheims road, Heinrich?”

“Yes.”

“I shall allow him to overtake me there--close to the big oak. You and Walther will wait there. If the two come, the matter will be more difficult, but we shall be three to two--and prepared.”

His auditors nodded, and Niels went into a few more details. Bertha was clearly the most agitated of the four, for she saw the breaking up of a small romance. Yet the thing at stake was big and important enough to warrant this sacrifice. She inclined her fine, intelligent head in agreement.

“There is nothing for me to do?” she asked.

“Not yet. But watch Fouchard and advise me if anything untoward happens. I will put the pigeon back in the cage in the forest to-morrow. Send a message if necessary.”

“And if you want to communicate with me? The old hiding-place is useless now.”

“I will leave a note in the pigeon-cage. Perhaps a code would be safest.” He thought for a moment. “We will use the alphabet backwards; you understand. It is crude, but good enough in the circumstances.”

“And you will use no more force than is necessary, Niels?”

“Why should I?” he replied impatiently. “Are there any further suggestions?”

“Everything seems clear and simple enough. I suppose those two men will be armed?” said Walther.

“It is possible.”

“Hm!”

“I warn you to take care,” said Bertha, waving her finger. “They are both athletic, and the younger one in particular is a born fighter. If he thinks he is fighting for the happiness of Mademoiselle Fallières he may shoot to kill.”

“Yet you insist that we should treat him with the gentlest care?” retorted Niels. “He is to shoot to kill, while we must handle him as if he were a sucking dove.” His brow came down. “Are not we fighting for something, too--something as dear to us as anything----”

“Let us not quarrel,” begged Heinrich. “Walther here is equal to two men, if it comes to a scuffle. I was thinking, Niels; suppose that young man should overtake you before you reach the ambush--what then?”

“Then I should deserve all I got. Trust me. I know his car, and I know mine. I am ten miles an hour faster, and the road I shall take is fairly straight. A puncture might complicate matters, but I shall put on brand-new tyres. Bertha having an objection to spanners as agents of unconsciousness, we must get Walther to use one of his violent anæsthetics.”

“I seem to be needed here,” sighed Walther.

“You will be needed later,” said Niels, with a grim look on his curious face.

“So I imagine. Well, Bertha, cheer up. We are not going to fail this time. In a fortnight at most we ought to be back in Germany.”

“Yes, but even then----”

“Don’t dwell on that,” said Niels, in a quieter voice. “Let us meet our troubles as they come. Whatever happens, keep silent. A single word--the smallest hint of what we want--would ruin everything. Once the truth were known the end is inevitable. You must realise that.”

“Yes--I do. But I am sorry for that poor girl, who has lost so much. She suspects me, but at times she acts as if she trusted me. If I could only tell her----”

“Madness!” hissed Niels. “Banish that idea from your mind for ever.”

“I have. Don’t catechise me. You seem to forget it was I who first put you on the track, Niels.”

“So it was. But what I daily fear is that everything may be ruined by a display of sentiment. We cannot afford to be sentimental. It is a grim fight, and we have to go through with it. Well, I fancy we have discussed everything. You must get back to the château.”

Bertha nodded, but seemed to tremble. The good-looking Heinrich stood up and limped towards her. He grasped her hands and looked at her affectionately.

“Be of brave heart, baroness,” he said. “You are playing a difficult part, and we shall never forget it.”