The movements of the constable as he went from post to post had put George on his guard. … Mabuse’s car reached the grounds, and the inspector’s quivering fingers were already raising the whistle to his mouth. At the moment when the occupants of the car should have left it and be about to close the door of the house behind them, he meant to give the signal. Two detectives were lying concealed in the shrubs to the left of the front door, and could reach it before the key was even turned in the lock, but the inspector gave no sign.
The car rushed round the corner, not stopping at the door. It tore frantically round the house as if about to rush pell-mell into the Lake. The inspector, forgetting all caution in the excitement and disappointment of the moment, sprang forward after it, and saw that it actually did disappear in the water. Like a sinister amphibian it leaped over the low wall, thundered down the wooden footway and sprang into the Lake.
Then at last he blew his whistle, and the posse of constables came running from all directions, knocking up against each other.
“To the shore!” shouted the sergeant.
There was no car to be seen anywhere. About two hundred yards from the shore the engines of a motorboat could be heard in the darkness. They searched beneath the roadway, up and down the lakeside, dazed and disappointed, but in vain.
Then at last the inspector realized what must have happened. The unceasing efforts, strain and hopes of an entire month had come to nought. His prize capture had escaped him. He was so absolutely disheartened by this maddening thought that he unconsciously pressed to his temples the revolver that he held ready-cocked in his hand, as if his very life must be forfeit through the failure of his enterprise. A moment later he lowered the revolver, and the ball, singeing his hair, fell harmless into the night. Upon the Lake a light shone out. Further on, another. The shot had aroused the attention of the spy-boats.
Not till then did the inspector remember these allies, whom in his first access of despair he had completely forgotten. “Bring Morse lamps!” he cried. How could he have overlooked the motorboats?
Immediately flashes were sent to the two boats: “The fugitives have escaped, and are on a motorboat on the lake.”
“All right,” was flashed back, and a few minutes later powerful searchlights were directed towards the lake. It was not long before they had located the escaping boat. But they had also warned it, for at that very moment it was about to run into them.
Mabuse and George were at once aware of their danger. The two searchlights advancing on them seemed like the open jaws of a monster approaching to devour them. George steered to larboard, and the boat settled its course in a new direction. The water streamed over the rudder and gleamed about them, frothing in the darkness. “There is only one way,” said Mabuse in a low voice, “the Rhine estuary.”
He considered the matter coolly and boldly. He was once more in a situation quite familiar to him, because he had lived through and overcome it countless times in imagination. On the German shore, whither they could easily return, everyone would be on the lookout for them. On the Austrian shore there was only Bregenz, shown up clearly by the searchlights. Between these two regions there was a large and very sparsely inhabited territory around the Rhine estuary. In twenty minutes they could reach land and then make their choice between Switzerland and Austria. If they were lucky enough to run their vehicle on to land again as easily as they had run it into the water, they would have sufficient start to make their escape certain.
One of the pursuing boats, however, lay right out in the lake. It seemed to guess at the fugitives’ intentions, for it did not follow them in a direct line, but remained to starboard, keeping abreast of them near the Swiss shore, as if awaiting a favourable opportunity to intercept them.
Perhaps it only wanted to keep between them and Switzerland. The searchlights from both boats met above Mabuse’s. The first faint traces of daylight were already appearing. Firing was heard behind them. One of the boats now followed in their wake, but at a little distance to the rear. The two pursuing boats exchanged Morse signals with each other.
For a time George steered a zigzag course, the vehicle swaying hither and thither with the constantly changing displacement of the rudder. George wanted to make it appear that he was trying to break through to the Swiss shore, but he, too, was excited by the searchlights. He did not succeed in getting out of their glare for more than a few moments at a time. The boat which was astern only went so slowly now because it was solely concerned with keeping them under view and cutting off their retreat to the German shore. The Morse signals used were secret ones, and neither Mabuse nor George could make them out although, through their frequent trips by water, they were fairly well acquainted with such things.
Suddenly the boat to the starboard side of them extinguished its searchlight. Above the infernal noise made by their own motor they could hear the engine of this boat ahead, its sound growing shriller and nearer. Their own motor was exerting its utmost pressure. The shooting had now ceased, and above the sounds made by their boat another noise could be heard. Mabuse bent forward towards it, listening with all his ears, the searchlight falling full upon him. He still wore the police uniform which had made his escape possible.
At first the Countess had lain in the boat half-conscious. The shots, the droning of the engines, the haste and excitement of the men beside her, had gradually awakened her,
