At once I drew my pistol and fired twice across the road.
I thought the consequent din would never die; but at last the echoes faded, and we were able to listen for lesser sounds.
The Rolls had stopped.
Now, though we had ruined the ambush, there was still the devil to pay, for I knew the way was too narrow to let the Rolls go about, and that to reverse in such darkness along so crooked a road was out of the question. But it suddenly came to my mind that if Mansel were to switch on his headlights and run for it towards Lerai, that is to say turn to the left at the junction, we should be out of the wood; for the thieves would almost certainly suffer the car to go by in the full expectation that she would be wrecked by the rope. I, therefore, decided to join Mansel as quickly as ever I could and, whispering to Bell to follow, hastened across the foreshore and on to the road.
Pitch-dark though it was, I dared not go directly by way of the Villach road, and we had just started back towards Lerai, when I heard the deep breath of an engine, and then the Rolls coming, with the rush of a mighty wind.
Mansel had divined the best course, and was making his dash. And all would be well, provided he turned to the left. If, at the junction, he turned to the right instead …
I know that for one long moment my heart stood still.
Then, throwing caution to the winds, Bell and I turned and raced for the second rope.
The junction was now bright as day, and the car was so close that, had there been nothing to gain, I should not have crossed its path, but have waited for it to go by. I found myself praying that Mansel would turn to the left. As he swooped at the corner I ran clean into the rope, but the Rolls was round and coming before I had opened Bell’s knife. I slashed at the rope like a madman, but before I could cut it right through the car swept by, and, ripping it out of my hand, mercifully snapped asunder such strands as were left.
As we ran in the wake of the Rolls, I heard an ejaculation and then a spurt of high words, but, though I was sure I heard Ellis, I could not distinguish Rose Noble’s masterful voice.
The Rolls had vanished, and I was beginning to wonder whether it would not be wiser to let Bell go on, while I returned to see what the thieves were doing and, if I could, meet Hanbury, when Mansel rose out of the shadows and spoke my name.
I told him my tale.
“I’m much obliged,” he said quietly. “You were up against time and the thieves, and you beat them both. When I am so placed, I hope I shall do as well. I think it likely that Hanbury missed his way: it’s very hard to go straight on a night like this. And that’s why we must get back. Your shots will bring him to the junction, and we don’t want an accident.”
With that, he showed us the boat and the sculls in a ditch, and proposed to take to the water and scull downstream. “For the way of a river,” said he, “is swift and safe and silent, and I was a fool not to have used it before.”
In this he was unfair to himself, for the relief nowadays took up the best part of an hour, four water-journeys having to be made each night: and, if these journeys had been considerably lengthened, we should have been worn out before we could get to bed.
Then he told us that the Rolls was gone, and would not come back that way; but that Carson had orders to be at the culvert at three, and, if no one of us came before four o’clock, to return to Salzburg. Before he went, he would leave a note wedged in the brickwork, to say he was safe, and, when twenty-four hours had gone by, he would come there again. So he would continue to do, until one of us came to meet him or he found a note under the arch.
“And now for Hanbury,” said Mansel: “and then for the oubliette.”
We slipped down the river noiselessly, and, when we approached the bend, at a signal from Mansel, Bell, who was rowing, rested upon his oars. We could hear no sound at all, and, after drifting for a moment, Mansel whispered to Bell to head for the shoot.
So thick was the darkness that Bell, not unnaturally, sculled to the side of the stream and, when he could make out the bank, began to follow this down.
We had just passed the slope of the woods and come to the cliff, when a torch was flashed twice from the bank five paces away. Before we could think, came two flashes from the opposite side.
And that was all.
At once Bell lay on his oars: but, after listening intently, Mansel bade him scull for the shoot.
Almost at once we were there, and Mansel put up a hand and rang the bell.
So soon as the flap was lifted:
“Listen, Rowley,” says Mansel, putting his mouth to the shoot. “Is Mr. Hanbury with you?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you anything to report?”
“Two flashes a moment ago, sir: but nothing else.”
Mansel turned to me.
“William,” he said, “I don’t think we’re out of the wood. To be perfectly honest, I’m altogether at sea. I know neither what to do nor what to think. But what bothers me most of all is—where is Rose Noble? That being so, I’d rather you held the fort. So you go up, and send Rowley down to me. And then we’ll go and find George.”
I did not at all relish the prospect of garrison duty at such a time; for,
