Chapter XVI: Bondage

Wallace opened his eyes to stare in wonderment at two pairs of bound legs in his proximity. It took him a full minute to realise that the nearer pair was his own, and that his hands were similarly bound behind his back. Those facing him belonged to Conrad, whose face he could see as a whitish splodge in the gloom. There was another pair of legs mixed up with the mass of human extremities, and, tracing these upwards with his eyes, he saw they supported a big, muscular body, above which was a face which he had seen before.

His head throbbed so painfully that it was difficult to sort out the incidents of the immediate past. Conrad recovered consciousness while he was engaged in this attempt, and sat blinking at him like a bewildered owl.… Things became clearer after a while. He recognised the other occupant of the car as the man who had doped him--Walther unquestionably.

From the front of the vehicle came low voices. Niels’s was immediately recognised, and the other, he guessed, belonged to Heinrich. Yes, it was clear enough now. He had run his neck right into the noose that the wily Niels had dangled before him. And here they were speeding along a road in the drenching rain--bound whither?

“Connie!”

“Hullo! Where the devil are we?”

“God knows.”

Walther grinned down at them, and moved his enormous legs to give them a little more room, which was sorely needed, for the back part of the car was not constructed to carry three persons.

“Where are you taking us?” demanded Wallace.

“For an excursion. The air of the Château Grammont is apt to become enervating.”

Wallace bit his lip in his ignominy. He put the blame entirely upon himself, and felt keenly sorry for Conrad, whom he had got into this plight. The bonds which held his legs had been tightly fixed, and were cramping him painfully.

“Is there any necessity to keep us trussed up like chickens?” he asked.

“It depends upon yourselves.”

“What do you mean?”

“I will free your legs if you will give me your word of honour not to start any trouble.”

“How could we--with our hands bound behind our backs?”

“Well, I will risk it, but if you try any tricks I shall be compelled to send you to sleep for another spell.”

He produced a knife and freed their legs, after making sure that the other fastenings were tight. The two prisoners stretched their aching limbs so far as it was possible. All the while the powerful engine was propelling the vehicle at a great speed. Wallace, with his mechanical interest aroused, inclined his head a little to one side, listening to a high whirring sound.

“Supercharger,” he said. “I’ll bet it’s doing thirty thousand revs.”

“I don’t care if it’s doing a million,” growled Conrad. “This is a nice ending.”

Niels, hearing the conversation, looked over the partition and scowled.

“Are you mad, Walther?” he asked.

“They won’t hurt,” replied Walther. “I’ll be responsible for them.”

“Look here,” said Wallace. “What’s the game? This is a pretty risky proceeding.”

“Not half so risky as sojourning in the Château Grammont. You ought to be grateful to us.”

“You want to get us out of the way, eh?”

“Wonderful powers of deduction!” said Walther. “Well, I fancy we are well on the way to success in that respect.”

It seemed true enough, for the car was now putting up a terrific pace, and Wallace tried to take a bearing from the sun; but that orb was totally obscured by rain-clouds.

“You might as well tell us our destination,” he said. “It can make no difference to you. I’ll admit that you have scored a point or two.”

“We are on our way to--the sea,” said Walther.

“The coast!”

“Repeating your recent deductive reasoning, you will conclude that a short sea trip is in store for you. You are correct, sir.”

“Very funny!” said Wallace. “Ve-ry funny!”

Conrad gave a wan smile.

“I suppose you are Walther?” he asked.

“You are well informed.”

“Glad to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine. What do you think of this car?”

“Not bad, but a bit noisy on gears,” said Wallace.

“We will have that seen to,” replied Walther calmly. “You will admit it wanted catching, eh?”

“It’s a fake job.”

“So it is--just a little hotted up for emergency. My cousin made it himself--with a little outside help.”

“Your cousin! So ‘monkey-face’ is your cousin?”

Niels heard this. He poked his head over the partition and looked like murder.

“All right, Niels,” said Walther cheerily. “It’s astonishing what truths come from the mouths of children. Look ahead or you’ll pile us up in the ditch.”

“Watch those two,” growled Niels. “They are not to be trusted.”

“You see,” said Walther, “my more experienced relative has doubts about your integrity.”

The two chaffing prisoners relapsed into silence, and for a long time nothing was heard but the peculiar noise of the supercharger and the whirring of the tyres on the wet road. Hour after hour the pace was maintained, Niels avoiding all big towns. Once Wallace caught a glimpse of a distant structure--a towering mass of iron that he could not help but recognise.

“The Eiffel Tower!” he exclaimed.

“We are skirting Paris,” informed Walther. “Think of the cafés, the boulevards, the Folies-Bergère. How much wiser it would have been for you to have spent your holiday there instead of at the Château Grammont.”

“We haven’t done with the Château Grammont yet,” said Wallace. “The tables may be turned, my friend.”

“Possibly. I always believed in the law of equilibrium. But time is the chief factor. I’m afraid you will miss your tea. Niels does not stop for anything when he is on the road.”

The big tower faded away into the distance, and a little later the rain ceased. But the roads were waterlogged, and the rushing car sent up fountains of mud as it careered on its way to the coast. Wallace became sunk in reflection. He thought of Yolande at the château. She would be wondering what had become of them, and wonder would merge into fear when the night came down. He thought of the creature who ran amok between those ancient walls--the razor----

“What about my car?” he asked suddenly. “Do you intend to steal it?”

“I think not. I am sure Niels much prefers his own.”

“What have you done with it?”

“You will know later. Why don’t you go to sleep?”

“Sleep!”

A little later Wallace overheard the German word for petrol. A hope was born. If Niels had to stop to fill his tank there might be a chance to enlist the help of the people at the garage. Their bonds would be evidence of abduction, and the French had little love for their late foes. But in this he was doomed to disappointment, for the car pulled up on a deserted road and Heinrich filled the tank from a big reservoir which was bolted to the running-board.

On went the car again, in the gathering gloom. Darkness made little difference to the speed, for brilliant headlights illuminated the road for half a mile ahead. At last the brine-laden air gave warning that the sea was not far away. They ran for some miles through flat country, with dunes on either side, and ultimately came to a halt with the sea breaking on the sand close by.

“Here we are!” said Walther. “An hour before our time.”

Niels and Heinrich got out of the car and flashed a torch towards the sea. Immediately an answer came back, and the men waited in silence. Soon Wallace heard the creaking of oars, and then the beaching of a boat.

“Bring them out, Walther!”

The two prisoners breathed a sigh of relief to be able to stretch their muscles. It was a wonderful night, with a sky rain-washed and free of cloud. The stars shone like fairy lamps, and in the west a crescent moon hung low. Looking across the bay, Wallace could see a fine, white yacht, with steam up. And coming towards them was a man in nautical garb--an officer, apparently. The boat which had brought him was on the marge of the softly breaking sea.

A conversation ensued, but it was in rapid German--too fast for either Wallace or Conrad to translate. The upshot was they were escorted to the waiting boat and driven aboard. A few minutes later they were moving across the moonlit sea towards the yacht, with the officer between them.

“You are my guests,” he said, in good English. “I trust you will like the yacht.”

“I doubt it,” grunted Wallace. “I suppose you realise that this is a kidnapping business?”

“An unpleasant word. Here we are!”

He cut their bonds in order to permit them to climb the ladder. But this act was off-set by the display of a revolver. They reached the deck and were driven into the saloon, which proved to be a most comfortable affair--and roomy.

“I will come again later,” said the officer, and went out, locking the door after him.

“Phew!” said Wallace. “And that’s that!”

“The car is moving.”

“Going back to the château. What a devil of a plight we are in! It’s my fault, Connie. I was too impetuous. I ought to have suspected a plot.”

“By Jove, we’re moving! Quick work that!”

“Where the devil are we bound for?”

“I wish I knew. The skipper--I suppose he is the skipper--treated Niels as if he were in his employ. Why, this boat is the plaything of a millionaire. What does it all mean?”

“It beats me.”

“It can only mean that what is hidden at the château is of the greatest value to certain persons.”

“Yes--yes. But I’m starving.”

“So am I. Have a cigarette.”

They sat and smoked for some time, and then the officer appeared again.

“That’s right. Make yourselves at home. Dinner will be served in a few minutes. Through the door yonder you will find a lavatory, and all you need. The dining saloon is downstairs--under this.”

“Thanks! Are you the captain?”

“Yes.”

“And may we know where you intend taking us?”

“I will tell you later. Dinner is waiting, and we observe punctuality here.”

They were glad to take advantage of the well-fitted lavatory. But their clothes were sodden and creased, and rendered them sorry objects. They were remarking on this when a seaman knocked and entered. He could speak no word of English, but he brought with him two suits of duck and a bundle of collars.

“Well, I’m damned!” ejaculated Wallace.