"So what now, you wonder?" says he. "Well, Harry, that’s a hard one … damned hard. You see, the fact is that I like you—and none the less because you’ve baulked me altogether. Indeed, all the more. And it’s just a lost trick in the game, anyway—I’ll settle Franz-Josef, one way or t’other, and before long, too. You may count on that. And then . , .’twill all come right, and Hungary will be free soil. But that’s by the way."
He seated himself on his packing-case again, blowing smoke-rings and watching them hang motionless in that windless cavern, while my skin crawled.
"The hard thing, though, is that while you’re a man after my own heart, just as you were after the guv’nor’s, and I’d like to clap hands and part friends …" and damned if he didn’t sound as though he meant it . . you know too much, you see. At the moment, what happened last night is all a great mystery—officially. What do they know, Franz-Josef’s people? That someone was tryin' to do him in—the-unlocked door and dead sentry tell ’em that. And that it was a Holnup job—the other dead ’un we had to leave with Gunther was a Magyar, and a notorious firebrand. And that you and I were in the business, some way or other. What then? Whatever they suspect, they can’t prove a blessed thing against you and me, unless we’re fool enough to let ourselves be collared in the next day or two, while the trail’s hot and they’re still full of zeal. After that, they’ll be quite thankful to forget about us, and they can keep the whole unfortunate business quiet. See?"
I saw, all right, and was struck by the sinister significance of the words "you know too much". He continued:
"Which is why I shall lie low in Italy for a spell, before presentin' myself to Bismarck, who’ll have no earthly reason to suspect me. Au contraire, he’ll welcome me with open arms! On the face of it, his great scheme will have worked to admiration, don’t you see?" He sat forward, eyes shining. "The Holnup struck, failed, and left two of their number stark and stiff ! Bravo, Starnberg and Flashy, cries Otto, couldn’t have done better myself ! That’s what he’s bound to think … and I shan’t disillusion him. If he wonders why we didn’t stay to take the credit, I’ll say it seemed
"I’ve never known, as I told you, what you and he were up to in Strackenz all those years ago. Some stunt of Otto Bismarck’s, wasn’t it? But I do know that you had the deuce of a turn-up at the last, sabre to sabre, in some castle or other—and ’twas the guv’nor’s lastin' regret that it didn’t go a l’outrance. I don’t know what came between you, but I wouldn’t mind havin' a quid for every time I heard the old chap say: `I only wish I’d settled Flashman! He was a strong swordsman, and up to every foul trick, but I was better. Aye, if only I could ha' finished it!' That’s what he said."
He turned away to reach in among some gear piled on a case by the tunnel mouth, and when he faced me again he had a dress sabre unsheathed in either hand, the slim blades glittering wickedly in the pale light from the cavern roof.
"So I feel bound to finish it for him," says he.
"But … but …" I struggled for speech. "You must be crazy! For God’s sake, man, there’s no need! I’ve told you I shan’t breathe a bloody word! I’ll be silent as the grave—"
"That’s the ticket!" cries he. "Couldn’t ha' put it better myself ! And speakin' of graves, you couldn’t ask a grander mausoleum than this!" He flourished a point at our ghastly surroundings. "Pretty gothic, what? Oh, shut up, do! Don’t tell me you’d not squeal your head off when the traps got you, ’cos it’s a lie and we both know it, and it don’t matter anyway—I’m doin' this out o' filial piety." He inserted the blade between my ankles and cut the cord. "There now, you can frisk like a lamb and limber up for the fray. Harry be nimble, eh? You’ll need to be, I promise."
"Damn you for a fool!" I struggled off the bed. "You can’t mean it! Why, it’s madness! I’ve told you I shan’t talk, haven’t I? You can trust me, I tell you!" I took an unsteady step and tumbled, rolling on the floor. "Loose my hands, rot you—and listen, you ass! Your guv’nor would never have stood for this—we were chums, dammit, comrades, Rudi and I—you said it yourself, he told you I was a man after his own heart—"
"He did. He also advised me to shoot you on sight, so count yourself lucky. Come on, upsadaisy!" He whacked me on the rump with the flat of the blade and I scrambled up cursing. "Now then … I’m goin' to untie your wrists, give you a moment to ease the cramps away, and when you’re ready you’re goin' to pick up that sabre …" he tossed one of them on to the bed "… and we’ll take up where you and the guv’nor left off, savvy?"
"Savvy be damned, I’ll not do it! Heavens, man, where’s the sense to it? You can’t bear me any grudge," I whined, "I didn’t try to spoil your beastly plot—"
"Apart from almost severin' my jugular. But I don’t hold that against you. All in the way o' business." He tapped his point on my breast. "So is this."
"I’ll not fight, I tell you!" I shouted, almost in tears. "You can’t make me!"
"True enough," says he. "And I can’t run a helpless man through, can I?" His smile became wicked. "Might persuade you, though … if you’ll just step this way …" He prodded me back-wards, along by the rails, and perforce I retreated, pleading and blaspheming by turn, while he requested me to "Pass along the bus, please," before seizing my shoulder, spinning me round, and gripping my bound wrists. "Steady the Buffs! Don’t want you fallin' and hurtin' yourself … yet."
I dam' near swooned. We were on the very lip of the cleft where the rails ended, and I was staring down aghast into a narrow chasm whose smooth walls were visible for only a few yards before they vanished into black nothingness. I swayed giddily on the brink, my crotch shrinking as I tried to rear back from that awful void, but Willem held me in an iron grip, chuckling at my shoulder.
"A soldier’s sepulchre, what? That’s where your mortal coil is goin', when you’ve shuffled it off. Can’t tell how deep it is, but it looks as though it narrows a bit, some distance down, like those jolly French oubliettes, so you’ll probably stick fast. You won’t mind, bein' dead. On t’other hand, if you won’t fight I’ll just have to drop you in alive, and the stickin' process might last some time, wouldn’t you think?"
That was when I broke. The horror of that gaping shaft, the thought of falling into blackness, the tearing agony of rasping to a flayed, bloody stop between the confining walls, jammed and helpless, to die by inches, rotting in the bowels of the earth … I raved, begging him to let me be, promising never to tell, struggling like a maniac until he pulled me away, and I sank to my knees, weeping buckets and babbling for mercy, promising him a fortune if he’d only spare me. He listened in some wonder, and then laughed as though a light had dawned.
"I’ll be jiggered!" cries he. "It’s the Flashman gambit … grovel and whine—then strike when your man’s off guard! Didn’t I tell you the guv’nor warned me to beware when you started showin' the white feather? Well, you’re doin' it a shade too brown, Harry—and t’won’t answer, you know. I’m fly to you. ’Sides, I probably have more cash in the bank than you do."
"Help!" I hollered. "Help, murder! Let me be, you lousy bully, you cruel bastard, you! I ain’t shamming, you infernal idiot, I swear I’m not! Oh, please, Starnberg … Willem, Bill, let me go and I’ll never tell! Help!"