Wriggling like an eel he twisted himself partly from under the German and bringing up his knee thrust it into his adversary's groin. Grauber let out a harsh grunt and for a second his hold on Gregory's throat slackened. Their faces were within a few inches of each other. As the grip on Gregory's throat relaxed he jerked his head forward and buried his teeth in Grauber's chin.
For two minutes the Gestapo man bore the intense agony, his blood streaming over Gregory's face while they fought with silent ferocity, then Grauber could bear the pain no longer. Withdrawing his right hand he clenched it and lifted it for a sideways blow that would smash Gregory's face away from his own. As the blow came Gregory let go his bulldog grip and flung his head aside so that the German's fist lost most of its force, and only hit him a glancing blow on the left ear. But, twist as he would, he could not get out from under the heavy body.
Having freed his chin Grauber jerked himself up and holding Gregory down with his left hand bashed at his face with his right. Gregory dodged two of the blows but the third caught him full in the left eye. The pain was excruciating and for a moment he thought that he was blinded. Gathering all his force he kneed Grauber in the groin again. The German gave another awful grunt and tried to retaliate, but as his body shifted Gregory crossed his legs and stiffened the muscles of his stomach. At the same instant he brought up his right fist with a short arm hook to the side of Grauber's chin. Grauber's face, as he straddled Gregory, was almost out of reach so the blow was not a heavy one; but it was just sufficient to tip him off his balance and, straining every muscle, Gregory forced him over on to his side.
Grauber kicked out and his heavy boot landed on Gregory's shin, but thrusting the German away from him he managed to wriggle to his knees. Rolling right over, Grauber jumped to his feet with the agility of a huge cat; but Gregory was as quick.
Flinging himself at the Gestapo Chief's knees he embraced his legs and pitched him right over his left shoulder to crash, face foremost, spread eagled on the floor.
The fall gave Gregory just time to stagger to his feet. He was puffing like a grampus, sweat and blood were streaming down his face, his heart was pounding as though it would burst through his ribs, but he dared not let up for a second. It was no time for Queensberry rules but a matter of life and death, and much more than his own life depended upon his getting out of that room a free man. As Grauber rolled over and came up on his knees again Gregory hit him full in the face.
He swayed there for' an instant, rocking on his knees, yet such were his enormous powers of resistance that in spite of the blow he jerked up to his feet and came charging at Gregory like a thunderbolt.
Gregory managed to keep his balance but was forced back against the wall. He landed a right on his enemy's ear just as Grauber drew back his right and swung a terrific punch on his opponent's body. The blow left Gregory gasping and he sagged a little. Half blinded and sick with pain he lurched sideways; but his right hand brushed the top of the small table and its fingers encountered Grauber's automatic. There was no time to grasp it properly, as Grauber had drawn back and was coming at him again with a hail of blows. Raising his left arm to protect his face Gregory dodged aside and lifting the clubbed automatic struck Grauber with all his remaining force upon the temple. The German collapsed like a pole axed ox and lay, a limp, still, huddled lump, on the floor.
It was three minutes before Gregory could get back his breath or concentrate his thoughts. Once he could do so he listened for any sound in the passage or the adjoining rooms. It seemed certain that someone must have heard the racket caused by that frightful struggle and come to find out what it was all about; but in spite of its intensity it had occupied only a few moments and at this hour all the other occupants of the line of huts would be gathered in the Mess for their usual afternoon Kafe trinken. As Gregory realized that he breathed a little more easily, locked the door and set about examining Grauber.
Blood was trickling from the German's temple as well as from his chin, but he was not dead, For a moment Gregory toyed with the idea of killing him. He was a murderer many times over and worse a blackmailer and a torturer, who had climbed to high office in the Nazi State upon the blood, the misery and the tears of innumerable victims. With Hitler, Himmler, Heidrich, Streicher and all their crew, he deserved a more agonizing end than the human brain has power to devise; yet, while Gregory would have emptied the contents of an automatic into Grauber's stomach with the greatest possible pleasure if he had been conscious, he could not bring himself to crack the man's skull with one more blow from the pistol now that he lay there helpless.
A great thermos containing two quarts of hot water was kept filled in each hut by the soldier servants for their officers to wash with when they came off duty. Gregory emptied his into the canvas basin and, having cleansed his face and hands of blood, began to bathe his eye; it was horribly inflamed but had not yet started to colour up. lie felt extremely shaky but, using all the speed he could command, he collected everything of Grauber's that he thought might be of use to him and rammed the articles into the suitcase. Next he lashed Grauber hand and foot, lifted him on to his camp bed and drew the blankets over him; so that if anybody looked in they would think that, tired after his journey, he had turned in at once and was sound asleep. With luck he would not be discovered until the soldier servant came to rouse them the following morning.
Gregory had just started to tidy the hut and remove all traces of the struggle when he caught the sound of footsteps. Next moment there came a sharp knock on the door.
For a second his heart stood still but he controlled his breathing and asked in a steady voice: "Who is it?"
"Von Geisenheim," the reply came back. "You said you would be only a quarter of an hour and over half an hour has gone already."
"I'm so sorry. I'll be with you now in one moment," Gregory called out. He felt certain that although yon Geisenheim might be secretly anti Nazi he would never dare to condone a murderous attack upon a Gestapo Chief who had been attached to his Mission. Swiftly righting the remaining things he snatched up the suitcase and opening the door slipped through it before the General had time to get a glimpse of more than a section of the room.
There was a bright, unshaded light in the passage; by it van Geisenheim immediately noticed Gregory's chalk white face and damaged eye. Before he had time to speak Gregory said:
"I've just had a nasty accident. While I was packing I tripped over my suitcase and fell against the corner of the table. I was darned lucky not to lose the sight of my left eye and it hurts abominably. That's what delayed me."
"Hum It looks as though you've caught it an awful smack," von Geisenheim agreed sympathetically as they stepped out of the hut into the darkness together, but he made no other comment.
Five minutes later they were outside Voroshilov's office. A powerful car was waiting in the roadway with a military chauffeur at its wheel and beside it stood the Staff Major. In the half light which came from the headlamps of the car he did not notice the state of Gregory's face as he said that he had made arrangements for a racing sleigh to be in readiness on the south western shore of the Lake and wished him good luck.