King of the Air Part 18

Schwab's face reappeared instantly. It was aglow with excitement and hope.

"Gott sei Dank! Ingleton! You zay Ingleton! Zough ze dress be Mohr, ze voice is English. You are indeed English? Answer me for ze love of ze heavens!"

"Yes, I am English," cried Tom impatiently; "I want Sir Mark Ingleton."

"He is here, vizin, inside, viz me, Hildebrand Schwab. Let me out double-quick; I stifle, I suffocate, I do not breaze. Gott sei dank!"

"He is there? Where is he? Tell him I want to speak to him-an Englishman."

"He sleep sound, he is indispose; but I am ze vorst. I am here ze longest. Open ze door, please, be good enough, have ze kindness--"

Without more ado, Tom drew back the bolts with a bang and pulled at the door. It was locked. Schwab groaned again; but Tom, handing his torch to Abdul, who was pale with apprehension, called to Schwab to stand away from the door, and blew the lock in with a shot from his revolver. He flung open the door, and burst into the cell. The shot had awakened the envoy, who looked up in a dazed fashion, and asked, in the low voice of a man thoroughly tired, what the disturbance was about.

"G.o.d be praise, we are save! Do not notice ze dress; it is nozink; ze man is English. Ach! it is no good; ze door is open, but ve are in chains. Ach! Zum Teufel! It is kaput-all up!"

Tom pushed past him impatiently.

"Quick, Abdul," he said, "the hammer!"

Hastening to Sir Mark, who had risen from the floor, with half a dozen st.u.r.dy blows Tom snapped the chains that fixed his ankle bands to staples in the wall, then performed the like service for Schwab. He made no attempt to release their ankles from the fetters: there was no time for this, and he feared also to do them an injury. The sounds had caused commotion in the further dungeon, where the sheikh's other prisoners were confined. Chains were clanking, men were shouting, the uproar was so great that it must reach the ears of the jailer if he were anywhere in the neighbourhood, and though he was shut off from the vaults, he might burst the locks and bring a host of armed men to the rescue.

"We have no time to lose," said Tom. "Come with me."

"But, pardon me--" said Sir Mark.

"I can't explain now," Tom interrupted. "Come along; it is all right, only we must get away at once."

"At vunce, Sir Ingleton," said Schwab. "You hear zat! For ze sake of anyzink, be a man!"

"My good sir--" began Sir Mark: but Tom again cut him short.

"Can you walk?" he asked, noticing that the Englishman tottered as he stood.

"With a.s.sistance, perhaps."

At once Tom caught him by an arm, bidding Abdul take the other.

Supporting him, they led him along the pa.s.sage, up the stairway to the upper corridor, Schwab panting and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. behind them. Even before they reached the corridor they heard a tremendous battering at the door whose lock had been filled with fragments of brick.

It was so stout a barrier that Tom had no fear that it would be broken down by anything short of a battering ram, and it was not likely that the Moors had at hand an instrument ready for this purpose. His confidence was, however, soon shaken, for, before the party, enc.u.mbered with the enfeebled envoy, had begun to ascend the winding stairway leading from the arched corridor to the vestibule above, there was the sound of a very heavy body striking the door, followed by an ominous creak. Leaving the others to precede him, Tom stationed himself on the narrow stair, the hammer in one hand, his revolver in the other. He was determined not to use the revolver except in the last extremity, but he had no such compunctions about using the hammer.

Suddenly in the midst of the crashing blows upon the door there was the report of a rifle. The Moors were adopting his own device of blowing in the lock. The door gave way, and by the flash of his torch, Tom saw a crowd of swarthy Riffians swarming through the opening. The door at the foot of the winding stair leading to the corridor was somewhat ruinous; it was apparently seldom used, the sheikh depending for his security upon the heavy trapdoor above. Tom, however, succeeded in pulling it to before the Moors were upon him, and shot the single crazy bolt that still held. Then he darted up the stairs after the rest. They were just lifting the envoy through the trap. Schwab was waiting his turn, and when he heard Tom rushing up, he sprang through the opening with extraordinary agility. The trapdoor was let down and bolted; they hastened up the stairway to the upper vestibule adjoining the guest-chamber, thence up to the sheikh's quarters on the floor above, bolting every door behind them.

Even through the thick walls of the kasbah they had heard sounds of great excitement in the town. Evidently the whole place was now alive.

And there was danger to be antic.i.p.ated within, for as they groped their way up the last flight of stairs leading to the roof, their steps momentarily guided by the flashes of Tom's torches, the sounds of a tremendous battering near at hand struck upon their ears. Evidently the sheikh himself was now trying to make his way out. They hastened their steps as much as Sir Mark's enfeebled state permitted; Tom indeed was in such desperate anxiety, for pursuit could not be long delayed, that he forced the pace in a way that drew a protest from the Englishman-even in this extremity a diplomatist.

They came to the last flight of stairs leading to the roof.

"Is that you, Dorrell?" came the voice of Oliphant from above. Nervously restless, first on account of Tom's long absence, and then at the violent sounds within and without the building, he had left the airship and stationed himself with his revolver at the top of the staircase leading to the roof, to cover Tom's retreat if he proved to be hard pressed.

"All well!" shouted Tom in reply.

In another minute all four emerged upon the roof, and Oliphant gave a whistle of amazement and consternation when he saw an unexpected addition to the party.

"Two of them?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Yes; the sheikh had a German gentleman-"

"Hildebrand Schwab, representative of ze excellent firma of Schlagintwert and--"

"Hang it, we can't stop for introductions now," said Tom. "Abdul, run down to the door of the sheikh's room and persuade him that he risks his life if he comes out. We shall want a minute or two to get ready."

The Moor obeyed, not without a look of nervousness. At first he could scarcely make his voice heard above the uproar within the sheikh's room; but succeeding at last, he began a conversation which might have shocked and would certainly have amused Tom if he could have understood it.

"Is the most excellent lord the sheikh within?" shouted Abdul at the top of his voice.

The noise ceased.

"Certainly he is, thou misbegotten son of a pig!" said the frenzied sheikh. "Open this door, or by the beard of the Prophet I will flay thee alive, thou rat."

"Peace, O sheikh! Dost thou value thy life so little, foolish one?"

Abdul was gaining courage; his enemy was on the other side of the door.

"Peace, thou kaffir; I spit upon thee. Dost thou think to pa.s.s through till it be the good pleasure of those who have captured thy kasbah to permit thee? Know it is I, Abdul ben Ca.s.sim, and verily I and the good men with me will cut thee in pieces, first plucking out one by one the hairs of thy beard, if thou showest thy pig's snout beyond this door."

This seemed to stagger the sheikh, for his next words were uttered in a milder tone.

"What is thy purpose, O Abdul?"

"Know, thou dog of a dog, that a great sultan, the King of England, hath sent his most trusty wazeer to wrest from thee his servant, whom thou didst treacherously seize and shut in thy stinking dungeon. There now lies at this very door a monstrous bomb which will go off-Allah is great!-the instant this door is opened. Dost thou believe, dog? Verily thou wilt be shattered into as many pieces as there are lies in thy heart if thou dost but move the door the tenth part of an inch. But the King of England is merciful; he will not do you or your folk harm: he knows other ways of avenging the injury his servant has suffered at thy hands. Verily thou art in bad case, thou two-faced dog. Before the growing of a fingernail thou wilt be haled to Marrakesh, and then thou wilt suffer the pangs of Tophet."

And Abdul went on to revile the sheikh in terms that cannot be rendered in our modest English. His inventiveness was very creditable to his presence of mind, for though the noise in the sheikh's apartments had ceased, the uproar below was growing moment by moment in intensity. The great gate had been thrown open, the patio was thronged with fierce Moors enraged at the indignity put upon their chief, and it was scarcely possible that the doors below, stout as they were, could long withstand the furious blows with which they were a.s.sailed.

Meanwhile Tom had a.s.sured himself that his machinery was in order. Sir Mark had already entered the car. Tom was beside him, ready to start the propellers; Schwab was ensconced in the corner furthest from danger.

"Call Abdul, Oliphant," said Tom.

Oliphant went to the head of the stairs and called; Abdul came bounding up, and in half a minute all five were packed into the car. It was a very tight fit, and Tom felt a tremor of apprehension as he pressed the lever. The vertical propellers answered instantly to his touch, but they beat the air ineffectually: the airship absolutely refused to rise.

"It won't lift us!" he said, aghast. "We're too heavy. Some one must be left behind."

"I'll stay," said Oliphant at once. "Take the others to the hill and come back for me. I can manage for half an hour or so with my revolver."

"Not a bit of it. I want your help with the machinery. What on earth can we do?"

"Leave Abdul?"

"Can't hear of it: he couldn't defend himself long, and he'd be frightfully tortured if they got him. We can't all get away at once, that's certain; and, as we certainly can't leave Sir Mark, we must leave the one we didn't reckon on. Herr Schwab--"

"No. I refuse. I vill not stay. I am here."