Strackenz.'
Seeing my bewildered look, he explained.
'You haven't heard the news, of course. Berlin is alive with alarms, it seems. The revolution's coming, my boy; the student rabble and the rest will have the King of Prussia off his throne in a week or two. So dear Otto has other fish to fry for the moment. Oh, it's not only in Germany, either; I hear that France is up in arms, and Louis- Phillipe's deposed, they say. It's spreading like wildfire.'[39] He laughed joyously. 'Don't you see, man? It's a heaven-sent chance. We could count on weeks—nay, months— before anyone gave a thought to this cosy little duchy—or to the identity of the duchess's consort,'
'And what use would that be to us?'
'God, you're brainless! To hold the reins of power—real power—in a European state, even a little one like Strackenz? If we couldn't squeeze some profit out of that—enough to set us up for life-before we took leave of 'em, then we aren't the men I think we are. D'you know what the revenues of a duchy amount to?'
'You're mad,' I said. 'Raving mad. D'you think I'd put my neck into that again?'
'Why not? Who's to stop you?'
'We wouldn't last a week—why, half the bloody peasants in Strackenz probably know that there are two Carl Gustafs loose about the place! They'll talk, won't they?'
'Bah, where's your spirit, play-actor?' he jeered. 'Who would listen to them? And it's only for a few weeks— you've done it once already, man! And think of the fun it would be!'
They are rare, but they do exist, and you can only call them adventurers. Rudi was one; it was the excitement, the mischief, that he lived for, more than the reward; the game, not the prize. Mad as hatters, mark you, and dangerous as sharks—they are not to be judged by the standards of yellow-bellies like me. Flashy don't want anything to do with 'em, but he knows how their minds work. Because of this, I was wondering furiously how to deal with him.
'You can go back to your pretty duchess, too,' says he.
'Don't want her,' says I. 'I've had her, anyway.'
'But there's a fortune in it, man!'
'I'd rather be alive and poor, thank'ee.'
He stood considering. 'You don't trust me, is that it?'
'Well,' says I, 'now that you mention it… .'
'But that's the point!' He clapped his hands. 'We are the ideal partners—neither of us trusts the other an inch, but we need each other. It's the only guarantee in any business. You're as big a rascal as I am; we would sell each other tomorrow, but there isn't the need.'
Our financiers know all this, of course, but I've often thought that our diplomatists and politicians could have gone to school to Professor Starnberg. I can see him still, arms akimbo, flashing eyes, curly head, brilliant smile, and ready to set fire to an orphan asylum to light his cheroot. I'm a dirty scoundrel, but it has come to me naturally; Rudi made a profession out of it.
'Come on, man, what d'you say?'
I caught the note of impatience in his voice; careful, now, I thought, or he'll turn vicious. His scheme was unthinkable, but I daren't tell him so. What was the way out, then? I must pretend to go along with him for the moment; would a chance of escape offer? It was growing on me that the only safe way out—or the least risky—was to find some way of doing what Sapten had wanted, How could I get the drawbridge down; would I survive the assault that would follow? Aye, but for the moment, pretend.
'Could we make certain of Sapten and Grundvig?' I asked doubtfully.
'Be sure of that,' says he. 'There are two little cannon below stairs—ornamental things, but they'll work. Load 'em with chain, and we'll sweep that causeway from end to end when the rescuers come charging home.'
'There are fifty of them, remember; have you enough here to man the guns and hold the place until we can get away?'
'Two of us, the three you saw in the cellar, and another three in the tower,' says he. 'Then there are two on the causeway, but they'll go in the first rush. They needn't concern us.' Oh, he was a born leader, all right. But now I knew how many men he had, and where they were. The vital fact was that there was no one, apparently, guarding the drawbridge mechanism on the inside.
'So,' he cried, 'you're with me?'
'Well,' says I, doubtfully, 'if we can be sure of holding those damned Volsungs on the bridge long enough… .'
'We'll concentrate all our force by the guns at the drawbridge arch,' says he. 'Why, we can have all ready in half an hour. Then, down with the bridge, and let the flies come streaming towards our parlour.' His eyes were shining with excitement, and he put out his hand. 'And then, my friend, we embark on our profitable partnership.'
Suddenly it struck me that it was now or never; he would move fast, and somehow I had to forestall him while his small forces were still scattered about the castle and all unsuspecting. I fought down my rising fear of what was to do, steeling myself for a desperate effort. My hand was sweating in his grasp.
'Let's drink to it!' cries he exultantly, and turned to the table, where the bottles stood.
Oh, Jesus, good luck to me, I thought. I moved up to his side, and as he splashed brandy into the glasses I made a swift examination of the other bottles standing by. A sturdy flask caught my eye, and I made a careless show of examining it, turning it by the neck to see the label. He was so confident in his youth and strength and arrogance that he never thought of being caught off-guard— why should he worry, in a castle held by his men, with only the feeble-spirited Flashman to be watched?
'Here,' says he, turning with a glass, and I breathed a silent prayer, shifted my hand on the bottle neck, and swung it with all my force at his head. He saw the movement, but had no time to duck; the flask shattered on his temple with an explosion like a pistol-shot, and he staggered back, wine drenching his hair and tunic, and hurtled full length to the floor.
I was beside him in a flash, but he was dead to the world, with a great ugly gash welling blood among his curls. For a few seconds I waited, listening, but there was no sound from without. I rose, my heart pounding, and strode quickly across the room, pausing only to take up a sabre from a rack in the corner. I'd done it now, and was in a state of active funk, but there was nothing for it but to hurry ahead and hope.
The door creaked abominably as I pulled it gently open and peeped out. All was still; the stair-lamps shone dimly on the great empty hall. There was no sound of footsteps. I closed the door softly and tiptoed to the top of the stairs, keeping close to the wall. Through the great arch across the hall I could see the wheel and chains of the drawbridge; they looked gigantic, and I wondered uneasily could I lower the bridge single-handed, and would I have the time to do it before someone came into the hall?
I cursed myself for not finishing Starnberg off while I had the chance; suppose he came to? Should I go back and settle him? But I baulked at that, and every second I lingered now increased the chance of discovery. Gulping down my fear I sped down the steps and across the hall, taking cover in the shadows of the archway, holding my breath and trying to listen above the thumping of my heart. Still no sound, and the lighted entrance to the passage leading to the dungeons, which I could see from my hidingplace, remained empty. I stole across to the great wheel, gently laid my sabre on the flags, and tried to make out how the mechanism worked.
There was a big handle on the wheel, with room for at least two men; that was how they wound it up. But there must be a brake on the wheel to hold it; I fumbled in the dark, cluttering with fright, and could find nothing that seemed to answer the case. The chains were taut with strain, and when I went farther into the arch I found that its outer end was closed by the raised wooden bridge itself; it was at least ten feet broad and might be three times that in length, for its upper end was lost in the dark above my head; faint streaks of moonlight came through at either side.
Well, at least there were no doors or portcullis to worry about; once the bridge was down the way was open—if I could get it down, and if it survived the fall. The bloody thing looked as though it weighed a ton; when it crashed down across the gap to the causeway there would be no need of any further signal to Sapten and his boarding-party—they would hear the row in Strackenz City. Aye, that would wake the castle, all right, and young Flash would have to light out full tilt for cover before the shooting started.
But I had to get the damned thing down first, by God; how long was it since I had left Rudi? Suppose he was
