It must have been midnight when he left the villa, but even that he did not know for certain, for of all that had happened to him since the moment when he had tested his pulse, he had only a dim and hazy idea. They must certainly be taking him to the place of execution now.
He recalled, with an endless yearning which seemed to encompass him like the sea, his long-dead father, and with all his energy he clung to these recollections, melancholy as their associations were. The jolting hither and thither of his body in the car and the mental excitement under which he was labouring made him sick, and in his helpless state he could not even turn his head aside. His brain lost the power of thinking in clear outlines. Spectres arose around him and devils played ball with him. They tossed him backwards and forwards between the Carse of Gowrie and Aconcagua, let him fall, and snatched at him again, just as he was about to be dashed to pieces on the Cape of Good Hope.
Then it seemed as if a gigantic black band had stuffed him down in a cave as if he were a sack. The walls of this cave were so close that he could not lie down, but suddenly, slowly, and yet without ceasing, they began to grow. They did not grow apart, however, but proceeded, always at the same pace, towards him, and the moment was already close at hand when they would crush his bones together and burst his brains. Consciousness forsook him, and he fell into a dreamlike condition, dominated by a dull sense of impending death.
When he awoke he found himself stretched out on a leather seat, the iron fetters no longer binding him. But his arms were tied behind him, and his legs were crossed on each other and fastened together. A large handkerchief had been bound over his face, so tightly as to be painful. It covered his mouth altogether and made breathing difficult.
It was now day, and he heard a rushing sound that rose and fell at intervals. He soon recognized it—it was the sea! A man looked down upon him. The handkerchief covered one eye only, and with the other he saw, over the edge of the bandage, half the objects on his eye-level. He did not know the man, who just then called to another, “Come here! he is awake.” Then the other came to look at him, and he too was a complete stranger to Wenk. He heard them talking, and one said to the other, “It is nearly five o’clock. The Doctor must be here soon!”
The other answered, “If he said soon after five, he will come then. We must be ready for him!”
“Can’t you see anything yet?”
The two men went off. Wenk tried to raise his head, but could not see beyond the frame of the window. The country must be flat—there was nothing but sky discernible.
“Give me the glass! There he is!” Wenk heard suddenly.
“Now comes the decisive moment,” he thought, and summoned all his powers to help him dispel the dread ideas which crowded upon him.
The events that followed occurred in rapid succession. The door of the car was flung open, and hands gripped him by the shoulders, which lay nearest the door. They dragged him out, his feet striking painfully on the step and then on the ground. The second man took his legs, and they carried him a short distance. Then Wenk saw sand-dunes in front of him, and a few steps further the men had climbed with him to the top.
“Faster!” cried the man behind, as he turned round and looked back over the landscape.
Wenk heard a motorcar, and said to himself, “That is Mabuse coming!” Suddenly a light awning appeared above him, and after a time he recognized it for the wing of an aeroplane.
The two men arranged everything with hasty movements. Wenk was laid on the sand, and two cords tied together made a noose under his chest and arms. One man raised his legs and these were fastened by two cords which had been attached somewhere to a pole rather high up. A third leash was then slung round his hips. It was not long before Wenk realized that he was hanging bound to the outer wall of the car of a flying-machine. He lay closely fastened there like a package that was to be taken on a journey. With his uncovered right eye he saw beyond the edge of the bandage that the aeroplane stood on a prepared landing-stage over a course which sloped down to the sea. Beyond it stretched the shore. It was ebb-tide.
“I am going to have a sea voyage,” cried a despairing voice within Wenk sadly. “How long it is since my last voyage. All the years of war lie between, and yet now, for me, comes the war—the bombshell is prepared.”
From the depths of his muscular being there came an answer to this sad voice of despair. He exerted his muscles against his bonds. His body moved and wriggled in the nooses, and the wing of the machine quivered beneath the shock, and swayed above him.
Then a broad face and a high, well-formed head bent over him, and two fiery eyes seemed to pierce him through and through.
“Aha!” said the voice of the man who stood above him.
“Yes, there is the foe, there is Mabuse,” thought Wenk.
“Get in!” he heard him say, and there was the rustling of a woman’s dress, and out of the rustling a voice … a voice that made his knees tremble in their bonds. He knew that voice! The rustling was louder and closer, and the woman’s voice cried, “What is that?” Wenk heard the horror, trouble and anxiety that spoke in the voice as she put the question.
“Get in!” said Mabuse again. Then the voice, the well-known, low, sweet voice of the Countess Told, said in a
