guns I felt that I was moving in natural air once more. I felt that I was coming home.
We were stopped at a long line of ramparts, and a German sergeant stared at us till he saw the lieutenant beside me, when he saluted and we passed on. Almost at once we dipped into narrow twisting streets, choked with soldiers, where it was hard business to steer. There were few lights - only now and then the flare of a torch which showed the grey stone houses, with every window latticed and shuttered. I had put out my headlights and had only side lamps, so we had to pick our way gingerly through the labyrinth. I hoped we would strike Sandy’s quarters soon, for we were all pretty empty, and a frost had set in which made our thick coats seem as thin as paper.
The lieutenant did the guiding. We had to present our passports, and I anticipated no more difficulty than in landing from the boat at Boulogne. But I wanted to get it over, for my hunger pinched me and it was fearsome cold. Still the guns went on, like hounds baying before a quarry. The city was out of range, but there were strange lights on the ridge to the east.
At last we reached our goal and marched through a fine old carved archway into a courtyard, and thence into a draughty hall.
‘You must see the _Sektionschef,’ said our guide. I looked round to see if we were all there, and noticed that Hussin had disappeared. It did not matter, for he was not on the passports.
We followed as we were directed through an open door. There was a man standing with his back towards us looking at a wall map, a very big man with a neck that bulged over his collar. I would have known that neck among a million. At the sight of it I made a half-turn to bolt back. It was too late, for the door had closed behind us and there were two armed sentries beside it.
The man slewed round and looked into my eyes. I had a despairing hope that I might bluff it out, for I was in different clothes and had shaved my beard. But you cannot spend ten minutes in a death-grapple without your adversary getting to know you.
He went very pale, then recollected himself and twisted his features into the old grin. ‘So,’ he said, ‘the little Dutchmen! We meet after many days.’
It was no good lying or saying anything. I shut my teeth and waited.
‘And you, Herr Blenkiron? I never liked the look of you. You babbled too much, like all your damned Americans.’
‘I guess your personal dislikes haven’t got anything to do with the matter,’ said Blenkiron, calmly. ‘If you’re the boss here, I’ll thank you to cast your eye over these passports, for we can’t stand waiting for ever.’
This fairly angered him. ‘I’ll teach you manners,’ he cried, and took a step forward to reach for Blenkiron’s shoulder - the game he had twice played with me.
Blenkiron never took his hands from his coat pockets. ‘Keep your distance,’ he drawled in a new voice. ‘I’ve got you covered, and I’ll make a hole in your bullet head if you lay a hand on me.’
With an effort Stumm recovered himself. He rang a bell and fell to smiling. An orderly appeared to whom he spoke in Turkish, and presently a file of soldiers entered the room.
‘I’m going to have you disarmed, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘We can conduct our conversation more pleasantly without pistols.’
It was idle to resist. We surrendered our arms, Peter almost in tears with vexation. Stumm swung his legs over a chair, rested his chin on the back and looked at me.
‘Your game is up, you know,’ he said. ‘These fools of Turkish police said the Dutchmen were dead, but I had the happier inspiration. I believed the good God had spared them for me. When I got Rasta’s telegram I was certain, for your doings reminded me of a little trick you once played me on the Schwandorf road. But I didn’t think to find this plump old partridge,’ and he smiled at Blenkiron. ‘Two eminent American engineers and their servant bound for Mesopotamia on business of high Government importance! It was a good lie; but if I had been in Constantinople it would have had a short life. Rasta and his friends are no concern of mine. You can trick them as you please. But you have attempted to win the confidence of a certain lady, and her interests are mine. Likewise you have offended me, and I do not forgive. By God,’ he cried, his voice growing shrill with passion, ‘by the time I have done with you your mothers in their graves will weep that they ever bore you!’
It was Blenkiron who spoke. His voice was as level as the chairman’s of a bogus company, and it fell on that turbid atmosphere like acid on grease.
‘I don’t take no stock in high-falutin’. If you’re trying to scare me by that dime-novel talk I guess you’ve hit the wrong man. You’re like the sweep that stuck in the chimney, a bit too big for your job. I reckon you’ve a talent for romance that’s just wasted in soldiering. But if you’re going to play any ugly games on me I’d like you to know that I’m an American citizen, and pretty well considered in my own country and in yours, and you’ll sweat blood for it later. That’s a fair warning, Colonel Stumm.’
I don’t know what Stumm’s plans were, but that speech of Blenkiron’s put into his mind just the needed amount of uncertainty. You see, he had Peter and me right enough, but he hadn’t properly connected Blenkiron with us, and was afraid either to hit out at all three, or to let Blenkiron go. It was lucky for us that the American had cut such a dash in the Fatherland.
‘There is no hurry,’ he said blandly. ‘We shall have long happy hours together. I’m going to take you all home with me, for I am a hospitable soul. You will be safer with me than in the town gaol, for it’s a trifle draughty. It lets things in, and it might let things out.’
Again he gave an order, and we were marched out, each with a soldier at his elbow. The three of us were bundled into the back seat of the car, while two men sat before us with their rifles between their knees, one got up behind on the baggage rack, and one sat beside Stumm’s chauffeur. Packed like sardines we moved into the bleak streets, above which the stars twinkled in ribbons of sky.
Hussin had disappeared from the face of the earth, and quite right too. He was a good fellow, but he had no call to mix himself up in our troubles.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Sparrows on the Housetops
‘I’ve often regretted,’ said Blenkiron, ‘that miracles have left off happening.’
He got no answer, for I was feeling the walls for something in the nature of a window.
‘For I reckon,’ he went on, ‘that it wants a good old-fashioned copper-bottomed miracle to get us out of this fix. It’s plumb against all my principles. I’ve spent my life using the talents God gave me to keep things from getting to the point of rude violence, and so far I’ve succeeded. But now you come along, Major, and you hustle a respectable middle-aged citizen into an aboriginal mix-up. It’s mighty indelicate. I reckon the next move is up to you, for I’m no good at the housebreaking stunt.’
‘No more am I,’ I answered; ‘but I’m hanged if I’ll chuck up the sponge. Sandy’s somewhere outside, and he’s got a hefty crowd at his heels.’
I simply could not feel the despair which by every law of common sense was due to the case. The guns had intoxicated me. I could still hear their deep voices, though yards of wood and stone separated us from the upper air.
What vexed us most was our hunger. Barring a few mouthfuls on the road we had eaten nothing since the morning, and as our diet for the past days had not been generous we had some leeway to make up. Stumm had never looked near us since we were shoved into the car. We had been brought to some kind of house and bundled into a place like a wine-cellar. It was pitch dark, and after feeling round the walls, first on my feet and then on Peter’s back, I decided that there were no windows. It must have been lit and ventilated by some lattice in the ceiling. There was not a stick of furniture in the place: nothing but a damp earth floor and bare stone sides, The door was a relic of the Iron Age, and I could hear the paces of a sentry outside it.
When things get to the pass that nothing you can do can better them, the only thing is to live for the moment. All three of us sought in sleep a refuge from our empty stomachs. The floor was the poorest kind of bed, but we rolled up our coats for pillows and made the best of it. Soon I knew by Peter’s regular breathing that he was asleep, and I presently followed him …
I was awakened by a pressure below my left ear. I thought it was Peter, for it is the old hunter’s trick of waking a man so that he makes no noise. But another voice spoke. It told me that there was no time to lose and to rise and follow, and the voice was the voice of Hussin. Peter was awake, and we stirred Blenkiron out of heavy slumber. We were bidden take off our boots and hang them by their laces round our necks as country boys do when they want to go barefoot. Then we tiptoed to the door, which was ajar.
Outside was a passage with a flight of steps at one end which led to the open air. On these steps lay a faint shine of starlight, and by its help I saw a man huddled up at the foot of them. It was our sentry, neatly and
