Phroso Part 22

I drew back a pace, resting against the windowsill. Hogvardt's lance was protruded before me. At that moment I asked nothing better than to bury its point in the fat innkeeper's flesh.

'You'll repent it if you do what you say,' said she.

'I shall repent it more if I don't obey my lord,' said Vlacho. 'See, my hand is on the curtains. Will you come, my lady?'

'I will not come,' said she.

There was one last short interval. I heard them both breathing, and I held my own breath. My revolver rested in my pocket; the noise of a shot would be fatal. With G.o.d's help I would drive the lance home with one silent sufficient thrust. There would be a rogue less in the world and another chance for her and me.

'As you will, then,' said the innkeeper.

The curtain-rings rattled along the rod; the heavy hangings gave back.

The moon, which was newly risen, streamed full in Vlacho's eyes and on the pale strained face behind him. He saw me; he uttered one low exclamation: 'Christ!' His hand flew to his belt. He drew a pistol out and raised it; but I was too quick for him. I drove the great hunting-knife on the end of the sapling full and straight into his breast. With a groan he flung his arms over his head and fell sideways, half-supported by the curtain till the fabric was rent away from the rings and fell over his body, enveloping him in a thick pall.

I drew my lance back. The force of the blow had overstrained Hogvardt's wire fastenings; the blade was bent to an angle with the shaft and shook loosely from side to side. Vlacho's blood began to curl in a meandering trickle from beneath the curtain. Madame Stefanopoulos glared at me, speechless. But my eyes fell from her to the floor; for there I saw two long black shadows. A sudden and desperate inspiration seized me. She was my ally, I hers. If both were held guilty of this act we could render no service to each other. If she were still unsuspected--and n.o.body except myself had heard her talk with Vlacho--she might yet help herself and me.

'Throw me over,' I whispered in English. 'Cry for help.'

'What?'

'Cry. The men are there. You may help me afterwards.'

'What, pretend--?'

'Yes. Quick.'

'But they'll--'

'No, no. Quick, for G.o.d's sake, quick!'

'G.o.d help us,' she whispered. Then she cried loudly, 'Help! help!

help!'

I sprang towards her. There was the crash of a man leaping through the open window. I turned. Behind him I saw Demetri standing in the moonlight. Other figures hurried up; feet pattered on the hard ground.

The man who had leaped in--a very tall, handsome and athletic fellow, whom I had not seen before--held to my head a long old-fashioned pistol. I let my hands drop to my side and faced him with a smile on my lips. It must be death to resist--death to me and death to my new friend; surrender might open a narrow way of safety.

'I yield,' said I.

'Who are you?' he cried.

'I am Lord Wheatley,' I answered.

'But did you not fly to the--?' He stopped.

'To the pa.s.sage?' said I. 'No, I came here. I was trying to escape. I came in while Madame here was asleep and hid behind the curtain.'

'Yes, yes,' said she. 'It is so, Kortes, it is as he says; and then Vlacho came--'

'And,' said I, 'when the lady had agreed to go with Vlacho, Vlacho came to the window to call you; and by misadventure, sir, he came on me behind the curtain. And--won't you see whether he's dead?'

'Kill him, Kortes, kill him!' cried Demetri, fiercely and suddenly, from the window.

Kortes turned round.

'Peace!' said he. 'The man has yielded. Do I kill men who have yielded? The Lady of the island and my Lord Constantine must decide his fate; it is not my office. Are you armed, sir?'

It went to my heart to give up that last treasured shot of mine. But he was treating me as an honourable man. I handed him my revolver with a bow, saying:

'I depend on you to protect me from that fellow and the rest till you deliver me to those you speak of.'

'In my charge you are safe,' said Kortes, and he stooped down and lifted the curtain from Vlacho's face. The innkeeper stirred and groaned. He was not dead yet. Kortes turned round to Demetri.

'Stay here and tend him. Do what you can for him. When I am able, I will send aid to him; but I don't think he will live.'

Demetri scowled. He seemed not to like the part a.s.signed to him.

'Are you going to take this man to my Lord Constantine?' he asked.

'Leave another with Vlacho, and let me come with you to my lord.'

'Who should better stay with Vlacho than his nephew Demetri?' asked Kortes with a smile. (This relationship was a new light to me.) 'I am going to do what my duty is. Come, no questioning. Do not I command, now Vlacho is wounded?'

'And the lady here?' asked Demetri.

'I am not ordered to lay a finger on the lady,' answered Kortes.

'Indeed I don't know who she is.'

Francesca interposed with great dignity:

'I will come with you,' said she. 'I have my story to tell when this gentleman is put on his trial. Who I am you will know soon.'

Demetri had climbed in at the window. He pa.s.sed me with a savage scowl, and I noticed that one side of his head was bound with a bloodstained bandage. He saw me looking at it.

'Aye,' he growled, 'I owe you the loss of half an ear.'

'In the pa.s.sage?' I hazarded, much pleased.

'I shall pay the debt,' said he, 'or see it paid handsomely for me by my lord.'

'Come,' said Kortes, 'let us go.'

Fully believing that the fact of Kortes being in command instead of Demetri had saved me from instant death, I was not inclined to dispute his orders. I walked out of the house and took the place he indicated to me in the middle of a line of islanders, some ten or twelve in number. Kortes placed himself by my side, and Madame Stefanopoulos walked on his other hand. The islanders maintained absolute silence. I followed their example, but my heart (I must confess) beat as I waited to see in what direction our column was to march. We started down the hill towards the house. If we were going to the house I had perhaps twenty minutes to live, and the lady who was with us would not long survive me. In vain I scanned Kortes's comely grave features. He marched with the impa.s.sive regularity of a grenadier and displayed much the same expressionless steadiness of face. Nearer to the fatal house we came; but my heart gave a sudden leap of hope and excitement, for Kortes cried softly, 'To the right.' We turned down the path that led up from the town, leaving the house on the left. We were not going straight to death then, and every respite was pregnant with unforeseen chances of escape. I touched Kortes on the shoulder.

'Where are we going?' I asked.

'To the town,' he answered.

Again in silence we pursued our way down the hillside. The path broadened and the incline became less steep; a few lights twinkled from the sea, which now spread before us. Still we went on. Then I heard the bell of a church strike twelve. The strokes ended, but another bell began to ring. Our escort stopped with one accord. They took off their caps and signed the cross on their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Kortes did the same as the rest. I looked at him in question, but he said nothing till the caps were replaced and we were on our way again. Then he said:

'To-day is the feast of St Tryphon. Didn't you know?'