For two minutes they lay there struggling in the roadway. Von Ziegler was tough, but Gregory was even tougher. By twisting the airman's wrist he made him drop his automatic, then he got his hands upon his throat.
It looked as though von Ziegler was finished. But suddenly he kneed Gregory in the groin. The stab of pain forced Gregory to relax his grip, and the agile German wriggled from under him. Both of them struck out at each other's face as they lay for a second side by side, but both landed only glancing blows. Then, as though by mutual consent, they rolled apart and staggered to their feet.
Next moment they were in a wrestler's clinch, swaying violently from side to side, each striving to throw the other. Gasping and grunting they staggered first one way and then the other across the road while exerting all the power of their muscles. Both were so intent on their struggle for mastery that neither noticed when their violent shuffling brought them right to the edge of the precipice, Suddenly, over von Ziegler's shoulder, Gregory glimpsed the shimmering river far below.
His heart missed a beat as he realised that the airman's feet were planted on the very brink of the cliff. If the earth gave way, locked as they were in a deadly embrace, they would both go hurtling down into the five-hundred-foot gulf that yawned within inches of them. Relaxing his hold he made a violent effort to break the German's grip. Von Ziegler thought that his enemy was weakening and with a grin of triumph exerted all his strength to tighten his clutch. Gregory threw his whole weight into a backward jerk and at the same time struck the German a terrific blow in the face. Von Ziegler gasped and his hands came apart from behind Gregory's back. For a second Gregory was free and he stood there panting.
Next instant the earth beneath the airman's left boot gave way. In a desperate endeavour to regain his balance he clutched at Gregory's arm. For a fraction of time he swayed there, but his whole weight was now on his right foot. It proved too great for the unsupported slab of earth beneath it. As his other foot sank through the crumbling mould Gregory made a last frantic attempt to wrench himself free but the clutch on his arm was like an iron vice. As von Ziegler slid down over the edge Gregory was jerked forward and they both plunged into the abyss.
CHAPTER 10
A Strange Armistice
Gregory's face was within a foot of the airman's, as he had been dragged forward head-foremost almost on top of him. In that last half-moment of their struggle he had seen the sudden realisation of the awful end which threatened them dawn in his enemy's face. Von Ziegler's mouth hung open, although no sound came from it, and his brilliant blue eyes seemed to start right out of his head.
At such a moment time ceases to exist and as Gregory hurtled downwards with his arm still in his enemy's vice-like grip, he was amazed to find that he could still think coherently. He found himself subconsciously registering the map-like scene which lay below them; the broad, curving river, the jutting rocks which broke it here and there, churning it into foam, and the fresh spring green of the meadows along its banks. He even found himself thinking what a pity it was that he hadn't got a salmon-rod. Then, in a split second, he was mentally rocking with laughter that such an idea should have come to him in such a situation.
He knew that he ought to be thinking of his approaching death and recommending his soul to God but, although he had a firm belief in the hereafter, he had never paid much tribute to any deities other than the old pagan gods who made life for a full-blooded man very well worth living; and he saw no reason why now, in his extremity, he should cringe before a more modern deity whose devotees denied the flesh and followed a way of gloom.
He had often said in a half-joking way that if ever he were brought before the Judgment Seat he would proclaim aloud that the Judge, having given him his body, his instincts and his opportunities, could bring no charge against him for having put them to good purpose; that if the Judge were not prepared to acknowledge the truth of that he would have no more to say, since one might just as well be ruled by Hitler, and that in that case he would set his wits to work to escape at the earliest possible opportunity from the heavenly concentration-camp.
Now that he was actually about to die he was not in the least afraid. Death held the answer to so many fascinating problems. He wondered . . . His thoughts had moved a considerable way in those few seconds after he was dragged over the edge of the precipice, but he was not destined to speculate any further.
With the suddenness of a blind being drawn across a window the strip of landscape that he could see between von Ziegler's feet and the cliff face was blotted out by a greyish-green curtain. For another second the wind whistled past Gregory's ears as the greyish-green thing that had obscured his view positively leapt up to meet them. With a frightful thump von Ziegler hit the grey-green mass. Instantly everything blacked out for Gregory as his face was flattened against the airman's chest.
His breath had been driven from his body and for a few moments he could only gasp like a fish on a bank while a queer, tingling sensation ran through all his limbs. At last, realising that he was still alive, he very cautiously raised his head a little while keeping his throbbing body absolutely lax. Peering from side to side he saw that they had landed upon a ledge no more than ten feet wide at its broadest point and about twenty-five feet in length, with both its ends tapering in until they vanished into the main sheer wall of rock. The next thing he discovered was that his nose was bleeding, then that one of his legs was still dangling over the awful void. Drawing it in he raised himself a little more and immediately an awful pain shot through his shoulder.
At first he thought that he had broken it but soon he came to the conclusion that he had only wrenched it badly and after cautiously flexing his other limbs he was extremely surprised to find that he had not injured himself in any other way. Von Ziegler had acted as a human mattress for him and had broken the force of his fall.
Kneeling up, he began to examine the airman, who was only semi-conscious and groaning softly. He had landed feet-first. One leg, which had doubled under him, was broken and Gregory thought that he had probably also injured his back; but it was a cut at the base of his skull, where his head had hit a stone, that had rendered him unconscious.
Using his sound arm Gregory drew the airman away from the edge of the ledge to a safer spot under the cliff face, and getting out his flask he forced some of its contents between the injured man's lips. Von Ziegler choked a little, blinked, opened his blue eyes and muttered:
'Where—am I?'
'Somewhere between Heaven and Hell,' Gregory replied grimly.
'What—what happened?'
'You fell over the edge of the precipice and you dragged me with you, but evidently it was your lucky day. Had you pulled anyone else over it's a thousand to one that you'd be a deader by now—a nasty little heap of pulped human matter that would just fall to pieces directly anyone tried to pick it up; but your patron devil slipped up in letting you choose me for your companion in your attempt to get to Hell before you were sent for, because my patron saint wasn't having any. As they couldn't kill one of us without the other it was agreed that the matter should be referred to the big Chief for his decision. In the meantime we are suspended between earth and sky. If my man wins somebody will come along and pull us up to safety, and if your man wins we shall sit here until we're either frozen to death or die of exhaustion.'