With the greatest precautions they stole along the passage to the big roofless hall, pausing a full minute before they crossed it. Not a sound met their ears; the great entrance door stood wide open.
“If we have to run for it, do you think you’ll faint?” whispered Rex. “Just put me wise if you think it’s likely. I could carry two like you; but don’t do it on me without warning.”
“I shall not faint,” the Duke assured him, “I’ve lost very little blood. If we’re separated we rendezvous on Marie Lou’s cottage, remember — but in no circumstances until we’ve thrown off the pursuit.”
“We shan’t be separated,” said Rex briefly. “All set?”
For answer De Richleau left the porch, and began to creep along in the deep shadow of the outside wall. On their other side they were protected by thick shrubberies; but for the stars above it was black as pitch. The bushes were a splendid screen, but had the disadvantage that they rustled at every movement.
The Duke suppressed an oath as he stumbled over the body of the man that Simon had shot from the landing window. He was quite dead. They passed the low brew-house where they had been held prisoner, and beneath the higher level of the wall behind which they had sheltered. With the wall the shrubbery ended.
They peered out from the last bushes, straining their eyes and ears for the least movement. If Leshkin had gone for reinforcements it seemed impossible that he had not left the rest of his men posted about the grounds to keep watch. Yet there was no sign of them.
Rex crept forward into the open, his automatic held ready for instant action. De Richleau followed, peering into the shadows on the right. The snow silenced their footfalls. They rounded the corner of the first outhouse.
Almost simultaneously Rex and the black shadow fired at point-blank range. The Russian pitched forward with a sharp cry. Rex crashed backwards, carrying De Richleau with him as he fell.
The Duke’s pistol went off with the impact, the bullet hissing through the trees. He rolled from under Rex, and covered the Russian from his position on the ground. It was unnecessary. The man lay, face downward, a pool of blood running from his head, staining the snow.
Rex lay where he had fallen. His groans were terrible. He writhed in agony on the ground. De Richleau asked no questions. He staggered to his feet, changed his pistol to his right hand, and, seizing Rex by the collar, dragged him back in the shelter of the bushes.
It took all his strength, and with the effort his wounded shoulder began to lose blood again. It was some thirty feet, and he accomplished it with only a few seconds to spare.
Shouts and running footsteps came from three directions. Leshkin’s voice could be heard yelling commands; a group of men gathered round the dead soldier. One switched on a torch. For a second De Richleau was tempted to fire into their midst. He lowered his weapon — it would have been madness — there were four of them beside the Kommissar. An angry order, and the torch went out; but there was time for the Duke to see that they were looking at the roof.
A sudden volley of shots in that direction confirmed his idea that they believed their comrade to have been shot from Rex’s old position at the window. There was a whispered consultation, and then Leshkin and his men withdrew.
What a golden opportunity to escape now, thought the Duke, if only it were not for Rex. He sighed. Rex had ceased groaning, and lay quite still. The Duke feared that he was dead. “Rex,” he whispered softly.
“Yes,” to his surprise came the reply.
“Thank God,” breathed De Richleau. “I thought they had finished you. Are you badly hurt?”
“It was a darned near thing,” Rex said, as he sat up slowly. “Another inch either way, and it would have been me for the golden shore.”
“Are you all right? Aren’t you wounded?”
“No, not a scratch. The bullet hit the steel buckle of my belt. Gosh, it was agony — like the kick of a mule, and every ounce of breath knocked out of my body. I’ll bet my tummy’s black and blue.”
“Can you walk — or run if need be? They believe us to be still upstairs.”
Rex got painfully to his feet. “O.K. Let’s quit this party. I guess we’ve had enough for one night”
“We will break right away from the house, then, this time,” whispered the Duke. “If we make a big circle to the left we should strike the road.”
As he spoke they left the cover of the bushes once more, creeping forward among the trees that bordered the drive.
They heard footfalls to their left, and stood stockstill; Leshkin had evidently posted a man there to watch the window. The steps moved away, and they proceeded stealthily. Another five minutes and they were able to break into a quick walk.
Guided by the stars, they made in the direction in which they believed the road to run, and a quarter of an hour later they came to it. Turning left again they walked quickly on, keeping a sharp look-out for the track that led to Marie Lou’s cottage.
They passed three other cottages on the way, but these were dark and silent. At last they found the path and struck off to the right along it.
“If only Simon’s there,” said Rex, breaking the long silence.
“If he’s not, it’s a thousand to one against our ever seeing him again.” The Duke seemed suddenly to have grown very old and tired.
The windows of Marie Lou’s cottage were shuttered, and only a crack of light showed through. With a sigh of thankfulness at finding their one refuge again, De Richleau thrust open the door.
Mademoiselle Marie Lou stood upon the threshold, clasping her little mother-of-pearl revolver, her big eyes wide with fear; but of Simon Aron there was no sign.
XVIII — Simple Simon Met a Gunman
“God be praised that you are safe returned, Messieurs,” she said, with a little gesture of relief, lowering the toy weapon to her side.
“Our friend?” asked the Duke anxiously. “Have you seen him?”
“What, the little one? Is he not with you?”
“We sent him on ahead nearly an hour ago. It is as I feared. He has been shot.” De Richleau sank heavily into a chair.
“Monsieur le Duc is wounded,” she exclaimed, as she saw the blood oozing from his shoulder.
“It is nothing, Mademoiselle; a flesh wound only.”
“Wait but one minute, and I will wash the wound.” She set water to boil, and took some strips of linen from a cupboard.
Rex was still standing at the door. “Guess I’ll go back and look for Simon,” he said simply.
“Let Mademoiselle dress my hurt, and I will come with you.” The Duke grimaced with pain as he struggled out of his greatcoat.
Rex helped him with his jacket, and the girl cut away his shirt. The place was laid bare — a gash about three inches long. The bullet had ploughed its way up the shoulder-blade and out at the top.
“You stay put,” said Rex. “I’ll go after Simon.”
“One moment.” The Duke detained him with his free hand. “First let us hear from Mademoiselle if it is quite impossible to obtain horses.”
“Absolutely impossible, Monsieur. The peasants had been warned. I tried four farms, and at each it was the same. They dared not sell their horses. There is danger even now that one of them may have spoken to the police about my visit.”
“I thought, Mademoiselle, that these people were your friends. It is as I feared. We shall bring trouble upon you — ah, gently with my shoulder, please.”
“The water is a little hot. There is one peasant only who I do not trust — the man Rakov. I would not have tried there but that I know him to be always greedy. I thought he would be tempted to take a risk for the high price which you would pay.”