Evil in a Mask

'Since you have no love for each other, are you not afraid that, at any time, she may leave you? She might escape to England and so deprive you of getting your hands on her money.'

'She'll not do that,' von Haugwitz replied with conviction. 'She pines for Charles, so would join him if she could. But, secretly, I have set a guard upon her. My steward, Big Karl, and his men, have orders to watch her closely and, should she attempt to escape from Langenstein, bring her back.'

For a moment Lisala was silent, then she said, 'Do you really believe that, when the war is over, she will go to England with you and tamely hand over her fortune? If so, you are more of a fool than I took you for.'

'She may prove difficult, I agree. But by law she is my chattel, and all that she owns belongs to me.'

'In law, yes. But I gathered that in England she has many powerful friends. They will not stand by and see you rob her of her wealth. To make certain of obtaining it, only one course is open to you.'

‘What is that?'

'She might meet with an accident. Once she is dead, you will hold all the cards. She will not be there to dispute her fortune with you, and call on her friends to aid her. You would only have to go over and collect it,'

Again there was a moment's silence, then the Baron said, 'That is indeed a thought. But it poses one great danger. As you have told me, it was that devil of a husband of yours who cheated me of Charles. He has been in love with Georgina since their childhood, and he is aware that there is no love lost between Georgina and me. Should he learn that she has met with a sudden death, there is a strong possibility that he will arrive at Langenstein and insist on being given full details of her end. He has a clever, subtle brain. To make away with a woman and leave no trace of how she died is by no means easy. Should he find me out, he would stop at nothing to avenge her death, and might well kill me.'

'That is a danger, I agree,' said Lisala thoughtfully. 'And it must be guarded against. But when he returns from the mis­sion he is on, could you not get him to visit Langenstein again, then arrange an accident which would put an end to both of them? As I've told you, he has threatened to kill me should it get out that I have taken a lover, and I believe he meant it; so I'd be glad to be rid of him once and for all. If both of us were free, we could marry and when the war ends, enjoy an enormous fortune between us.'

The Baron laughed. 'Such a thought is enchanting, and we'd make a perfect match. We have similar tastes and neither of us feels bound by the absurd conventions. Providing I can have you now and then, I have not the least objection to your taking other lovers; while you, I know, are of the opinion that a man who has numerous women becomes ever more expert in the art of love; and you think no worse of me because occasionally I prefer to caress a smooth-cheeked boy. I am at a loss, though, to think how, at one stroke, we can both regain our freedom.'

'In that I cannot help you. Should you force a quarrel on de Breuc, he might kill you before you could kill him. And, in any case, your wife would remain immune. Poison I judge too dangerous. Doctors these days are far more knowledge­able than of old, and one would have to be called in. He might see symptoms in the bodies that would arouse his suspicions. No, I must leave it to you to devise some way in which we can rid ourselves of them.'

There came another long pause in the conversation, then von Haugwitz exclaimed, T think I have it! The stones of the battlements at the top of the tall tower have become loose from age. We could get them both up there. One good push from behind by me, the stones would give and de Breuc would go hurtling downwards. We'd throw her after him. Our story, that they had been leaning side by side on the battlement and it had given way, would not be questioned.'

'Is it not possible that someone below would see us push them over?'

'Only a stranger to the district, someone perhaps in a pass­ing river boat, would stare up at the tower top. And if one did, he would be too far off to see clearly anything that hap­pened there.'

'What if one of them was not killed outright, and perhaps recovered, then sought to be avenged on us?'

'Impossible. It is a sheer drop of nearly three hundred feet to the road below. People whose bodies have been smashed to pulp can tell no tales.'

For some minutes there was silence, then Lisala yawned and said, ‘I am tired now, dear Ulrich; so let us sleep on it But wake me and make love to me again before you leave in the morning.'

Before they could put out their candles and the light from Roger's room percolate into theirs through the partly-open door of the closet, he slipped out of it and closed his door be­hind him.

His mind was in a whirl. As he thought of the peril that now threatened his beloved Georgina, he saw that his hands were trembling. Lisala he knew to be utterly unscrupulous, and that von Haugwitz should not be averse to killing him in revenge for his having deprived him of Charles was under­standable. But that the Baron should calmly have agreed, at Lisala's first suggestion, to murder his wife in order to make certain of getting hold of her fortune, filled Roger with rage and horror.

On a sudden impulse, he took two steps towards his sword, with the intention of bursting into the next room and, by slay­ing von Haugwitz there and then, put it forever out of his power to harm Georgina. With his hand already extended he pulled up. If he killed the Baron he would have to kill Lisala too, otherwise she would remain an eye-witness to the deed. Now he would have had no qualms about putting an end to her. She was the embodied evil responsible for this vile plot; the Baron was no more than an unprincipled lecher in whom she had found a willing accomplice.

But there was no way of concealing that he had returned to Vienna that night. If he killed one or both of them, it would undoubtedly be assumed that he had found them in bed to­gether and allowed his rage to get the better of him. He would have to be well away from Vienna before dawn; by midday he would be a hunted man and, if caught, pay for their deaths with his own life.

Roger's next thought was to set out at once and snatch Geor­gina from the Castle now destined to be her grave. His tired­ness had fallen from him. In three days of hard riding, he could reach Langenstein. But what then? He well remembered Big Karl, the steward who was also chief of the small bodyguard that feudal privilege allowed the Baron to maintain—the twenty or more servants, grooms and gamekeepers who had been sent in pursuit of young Charles. Von Haugwitz had left orders that Georgina was to be prevented from leaving the Schloss. They would never allow Roger to take her away, and there were far too many of them for him to attempt to do so by force.

But wait! The plotters intended to lure him there, so that they could stage the 'fatal accident' that would account for Georgina and himself at the same time. That would give him the chance to use his wits and, only in the last event, his sword. Georgina would be safe until they had him there with her. He must wait for the invitation, accept it; then, when inside the Schloss, plan with her some way in which they could escape together.

He had forgotten to collect his nightshirt from the closet, so slipped naked into bed, and blew out the candles. Fatigue again engulfed him. In spite of the new peril of which he had just learned he would soon have to face, he fell asleep almost instantly.

Next morning he slept late, but was downstairs before Lisala. When she appeared, he expressed mild surprise at seeing her, then spoke to her more pleasantly than he had for some months past. She reciprocated, asking where he had been. He told her of his journey to Paris, and that, arriving back late the pre­vious night, he had not wished to get the servants out of bed so had got into his room by the window.

After a while, she remarked casually, 'An old friend of ours is now in Vienna, Ulrich von Haugwitz. I met him in the Kertnerstrasse yesterday and invited him to dine with me here this evening.'

Roger raised a laugh. 'Dine and sleep, you mean, eh? But I have given up worrying about how you amuse yourself, pro­vided you keep your amours from the servants.'

Smiling back at him, she said, 'I am glad you are become more reasonable. And you know that you can count on my discretion. I had intended to have him take his leave at a fairly early hour;' then, after the servants had gone to bed, for him to return and I'd let him in. But with you and I both in so small a house as this, an awkward situation might arise, so to­night I fear the poor man must put up with a disappointment.'

When von Haugwitz arrived that evening, he looked shightly embarrassed on seeing Roger; but quickly expressed his pleasure at finding him there. To Roger's enquiry about Georgina the Baron replied that she was in excellent health, and that he had left her at Langenstein only because the vin­tage had just started. It was essential that one of them should supervise it, and he had had to come to Vienna on a matter of urgent business.

Half-way through the meal, Roger deliberately played into the hands of the plotters by remarking, 'I have most pleasant memories of our stay at Langenstein, and hope that one day you will invite us to repeat it.'

Von Haugwitz smiled. 'My dear fellow, at any time you can get leave you would be most welcome; and a visit from you, would, I know, delight Georgina.'

'It so happens that, having just completed a very tiring mis­sion for the Emperor, I am on leave at the moment,' Roger hazarded. 'But the business for which you are here no doubt requires your continued presence in Vienna; so we must post­pone this pleasure.'

'On the contrary,' the Baron declared. 'My business here is completed. I leave for home tomorrow. Why should you and Lisala not accompany me?'

Roger looked across at Lisala. She readily smiled her ac­quiescence, so the matter was settled.

Early next morning Roger went into the dry, where he called at an apothecary's and bought a bottle containing a powerful concoction with a base of opium. It was guaranteed either to put anyone into a deep sleep or reduce to semi-consciousness soldiers when they were being operated upon for serious wounds. He had no definite plan for using the mixture, but felt that it would prove a valuable asset should circumstances arise in which drugging a person or animal could ensure his giving no trouble.

By mid-morning the party was on its way, Lisala in the coach that Roger had hired for her when she had first arrived in Vienna, and the two men riding on either side of it On the evening of the 20th they reached Schloss Langenstein. Geor­gina, overjoyed at this unexpected visit by Roger, did not seek to disguise how delighted she was; and, hiding her intense dislike of Lisala, she welcomed her warmly.

Tired after their journey, they went early to bed, after an enjoyable supper. Roger felt certain that, as soon as all was quiet, Georgina would come to him; and a little before eleven o'clock, she slipped into his room.

Their first fond embraces over, he told her of the abomin­able plot that was afoot to kill them both. After a moment she said:

' Tis truly horrifying that Ulrich should contemplate so evil a deed. But I am not altogether surprised now that he has fallen under the influence of Lisala. He is desperate short of money, owing to the brutal taxes the French have imposed on his estates in Prussia. They are eating into his fortune to such an extent that, unless the war ends soon, he will be re­duced to living on a shoe-string.'

'You mean unless it ends by the defeat of Napoleon and a general pacification, which would relieve Prussia of her bur­den. That is possible. It needs only one major victory by Aus­tria to bring Prussia in. And, with the war in Spain also going against him, the Emperor would be finished. But until there is peace with England, Ulrich stands no chance of laying his hands on your money, whether you are alive or dead.'

'True. He must know, too, that when peace does come, I shall at once return home and proceed to divorce him; so Lisala was right when she pointed out that his only chance of securing my fortune is to kill me, and so become the legal owner of it, while France and England are still at war.'

'That is the nub of it,' Roger agreed. 'And he must do it soon. Otherwise, should Austria renew the war and bring about Napoleon's fall, Ulrich would find that he has left it too late. As for myself, Lisala is eager to be rid of me, and she told Ulrich that it was I who got young Charles away from him. That was so severe a blow that he would derive great pleasure from pushing me over the battlements.'

Georgina sighed, 'Oh, my dear love. What are we to do?'

'For us to attempt to leave openly is out of the question; and it is quite possible that Ulrich posts guards at night to prevent any attempt by you to slip away. Our best card is that they have no suspicion that we are aware of their intentions. The odds are that tomorrow we shall be invited to go up to the top of the tower to enjoy the view again. In no circumstances will we do so; but you can leave that to me. I shall propose that on Monday we all drive in to Frankfurt, on the plea that I have never seen that city, and would like to do so. That will be a lie. Actually I was there in '95, in the time of the Direc­tory, to borrow from the House of Rothschild, on behalf of the British Government, a huge sum with which to bribe the Republican General Pichegru to refrain from overwhelming the much smaller Austrian army.* But that is beside the point.'

* The Dark Secret of Josephine.

'Frankfurt is quite a distance from Langenstein,' Georgina remarked, 'a good forty miles.'

'No matter. Mayence is much nearer, but on the French side of the river. For that reason it is possible—as they know that we love each other and hate both of them—that Ulrich just might suspect that we have suddenly decided to run away together, and refuse to agree to my proposed expedition. On the other hand, Frankfurt is well inside German territory. If we leave early, we should be there by midday. We shall dine there at an inn. Afterwards you and I will refuse to re-enter the coach for the return to Langenstein. In the midst of a crowded city, Ulrich could not force us to, and would not dare attack us. His only course would be to apply for a war­rant to prevent you from leaving the country. Long before he could secure it, we should be safely across the frontier.'

'Oh, Roger!' Georgina turned over and threw her arms round his neck. 'You are a most wondrous man, and I shall forever be grateful that all through my life, whenever I have been in danger, by some mysterious means you have been sent to protect me.'

Next morning they all went out to see the gathering of the grapes. Although it was Sunday, once the vintage had started, not an hour of good weather could be lost in getting in the gol­den harvest. Scores of women, including those who were ser­vants at the Casde, plucked the fruit, while men of every station humped the big panniers on their backs as soon as they were full and tipped the contents into the waiting, large-wheeled cans.

On their return, the Baron and his party passed through the Weinstube. The great hall was deserted, but at one end of it was a huge pile of grapes, weighing many tons; for the quan­tity that was picked each day always exceeded that which could be pressed at night. As they walked towards the door leading into the Schloss, Georgina and Roger glanced at each other, then at the now empty press in which Charles had lain hidden for close on two days.

After the midday meal, von Haugwitz suggested that they should all ascend the tower to see the splendid view.

Georgina felt herself going pale, and swiftly averted her eyes from her husband's, lest he should see the fear in them* But Roger only laughed and shook his head.

'No thank you, Herr Baron; you must excuse me. I am prone to vertigo; and last time I went up there I felt a terrible temptation to throw myself over. I've no mind to subject my­self again to that type of mental agony.'

Von Haugwitz hid his annoyance by simulating humour, and began to twit Roger, coming near to calling him a coward; but Roger was not to be drawn and stuck firmly to his refusal to make the ascent. He then suggested that next day they should all drive into Frankfurt.

Pleading the vintage, the Baron strongly opposed the idea; so Roger said, ‘I saw enough of picking grapes today, so per­haps you would not mind if I drove in with Georgina, to be taken by her round the city. Lisala could come with us or, if she prefers, remain here to keep you company.'

For a long moment von Haugwitz did not reply, while Roger, idling with a toothpick, wondered anxiously if his sus­picions had been aroused. Then the Baron suddenly became the genial host again and said, 'Since you are set on it, we will all go. I will order coaches for eight o'clock.'

That night Georgina came again to Roger. As she scrambled into bed with him, she drew a sharp breath and sighed, 'Dear heart, we are undone. Ulrich has outwitted us, and laid a trap in which we may be killed tomorrow.' 'How so?' Roger asked quickly.

'My personal maid, Ilse, who loves me dearly, told me of it when she was seeing me to bed tonight. In spite of the new laws, the peasants hereabouts still look upon themselves as serfs. Ulrich's word is law to them and they would never dream of questioning his actions. This evening he sent Big Karl to give them their orders. Tomorrow the keepers and foresters are to dress themselves in their oldest rags, so that they will appear to be a band of brigands. At a lonely spot, soon after we take the road for Frankfurt, they are to fire their muskets, pretend­ing to aim at the coach, and so waylay it,'

'What then? Surely this normally law-abiding people would not go so far as to kill us?'

'Not deliberately. They are being told that it is only a prac­tical joke, to scare you and Lisala. But when Ilse learned this from her fiance, Adolf, Ulrich's valet, she became frightened for me. She looks on you, rightly, as the type of man who, if he thought himself attacked, would fire back. That could result in further shooting. Ilse fears that, during such a scrimmage, I might be hit. So she felt she must warn me, and begged me not to go with you.'

Roger nodded. 'This is bad. And you are right. Ulrich does not intend that we should come out of this affair alive. I can picture the sort of thing that is likely to happen. He will say to me, "Come, we must drive these villains off"; then, when pretending to aim at one of them, shoot me. As you get out of the coach to come to my aid, one of his men to whom he has paid a heavy bribe, will then pretend to aim at him, and in­stead shoot you. Afterwards, he will gloss the whole business over as a tragic series of accidents; and, whatever the rest of his people may suspect, none of them will dare air his sus­picions except among themselves.'

'Oh, Roger! What are we to do? We dare not go on this expedition to Frankfurt now. The best way out would be for me to sham illness. For them to stage two fatal accidents in succession would be to court inquiry, and so too great a risk.

If I don't go, they will await another opportunity to murder us together.'

'That's so, my love; and for that very reason we must not give them that opportunity. Because next time the odds are against our receiving warning of their plan. Our only chance is to take the offensive and deal with the situation tonight. I wish to God that we could take to horse and make off together with­in the hour. But as the grooms sleep above the stable, we'd never succeed in securing mounts and saddling up without rousing them. What we must do is to render Ulrich and Lisala hors de combat, then leave without them in the morning. Luck­ily, I brought with me a powerful drug. Now is the time to use it.'

'But how could you possibly administer it to them?'

Kissing her, he said, 'Leave that to me, dearest. Go now and return here in two hours' time with a dark lantern and a dozen strips of linen suitable to de their hands and ankles. And . . . yes, a large carving knife.'

While Georgina was gone, Roger dressed, buckled on his sword, primed his pistols and put the little bottle of drug in his pocket. He had told her not to come back for two hours because, by then, there would be a better chance of Ulrich and Lisala being asleep. But he found the suspense of awaiting her return almost unbearable.

At last the door opened and she came noiselessly in, carry­ing the things he had asked her to bring. 'Now,' he said, 'we will go first to Lisala's room. If they are both there, it will be much more difficult to overcome them. You must threaten her with your knife, while I tackle him. And, take this; it is the bottle of drug. I assume that, as here, in both their rooms there is a carafe of water and a glass beside the bed?'

Taking the bottle, she nodded, and led the way out into the corridor. Sufficient moonlight was coming through the diamond-paned windows for them to see their way. Very quietly they walked side by side, along several passages, up a flight of stairs and into another wing of the Castle, where Lisala's room was situated. At her door they paused for a mo­ment to still their breathing. Roger took a firm grip of the door handle, turned it slowly, then pushed gently with his knee until the door opened just sufficiently for him to see that it was dark inside.

Gently releasing the door handle, he took the dark lantern from Georgina with his left hand, and moved its slide back half an inch, so that it threw a narrow beam of light. Direct­ing the beam towards the floor, he gave the door a harder push and tiptoed into the room. No sound came in response to his movements. For a moment he thought the room must be un­occupied, and Lisala with the Baron. Then, as he raised the lantern and swept its beam across the room, he saw that Lisala was in bed, sound asleep. Over his shoulder he whispered to Georgina:

'Wake her gently, then hold the knife to her throat.'

Stepping aside so that Georgina could pass him, Roger glided to the foot of the bed, fully unmasked the dark lantern, then drew a loaded pistol from his sash. By then Georgina had her hand on Lisala's shoulder, and was giving it a slight shake. As Lisala roused, Roger shone the beam full in her face and, raising his pistol, held her covered. In a sharp voice, be said:

'One murmur, Madame, and I will shoot you through the head. Sit up and do as you are told.'

Muzzy with sleep, Lisala struggled into a sitting position, while Georgina held the knife to her throat. Roger then said to Georgina, 'You can now lay your knife aside. If she utters a sound, I will shoot her. Pour into her bedside glass a quar­ter of the drug, add water and hold the glass to her lips.'

As Georgina poured the drug, Lisala gasped, 'No! You mean to poison me. I won't drink it! I won't!'

'You will,' Roger snarled. 'And I vow to you that it is not poison, only a sleeping draught. Either you drink it, or a bullet will come smashing between your eyes; so that, beautiful aa you have been in life, you will look horrible when dead.'

Her great eyes distended with terror, Lisala swallowed the potion in little, choking gulps. As Georgina withdrew the empty glass, Roger said to her, 'Now take one of your strips of linen. Force.it

between her teeth, then tie it tightly behind her head.'

When Lisala had been gagged, Roger put up his pistol, took from Georgina two more strips of linen, tied one to each of Lisala's wrists and the other ends to the headposts of the canopied bed. She could now neither cry out nor escape.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Roger murmured to Georgina, 'Well, we have dealt satisfactorily with one of them. I pray God we may prove as fortunate with the other.'

Together they left the room and made their way stealthily down the corridor to its far end. Outside von Haugwitz's room they paused again, then Roger went through the same pro­cedure of casing the door open a little until they could see that the room was in darkness. A moment later, like two ghosts, they slipped inside. The narrow beam from Roger's nearly-closed lantern was directed on to the floor. Taking two steps forward, he raised the lantern and swept it round until the beam fell upon the bed. The Baron was lying there, apparently asleep. But immediately the light passed over his face he sud­denly sat up and cried:

'Who's that?'

'De Breuc,' Roger replied instantly, again pulling out his pistol. 'I have you covered. Raise your voice and you are a dead man.'

'What the devil is the meaning of this?' von Haugwitz de­manded.

'That your wife and I know your intentions towards us, so we mean to steal a march on you and are come to bid you good-bye.' As he spoke, Roger unmasked the lantern fully, so that the Baron could see the pistol.

Von Haugwitz gave a gasp. 'What! You . . . you mean to murder me?'

'No; only put you into a sound sleep, so that you cannot rouse your varlets to prevent our leaving.' Keeping his eyes fixed an the Baron, Roger went on, 'Georgina, prepare the potion. The same proportions as before; then give it to him. But have a care that he does not seize you. Should he attempt to, stick your knife in his eye.'

Roger knew that, in spite of the threat, to get von Haugwitz to swallow the drug was going to be a very tricky business. If he chanced a stab and pulled Georgina over him, she would become a shield that would protect him from a bullet. In order to have a hand free, he set the dark lantern down on an occa­sional table, so that its light continued to shine on the Baron. Transferring the pistol from his right hand to his left, he ad­vanced to within two feet of the side of the bed.

Meanwhile, Georgina had laid aside her knife and, keeping well away from her husband, secured his bedside glass and water carafe. When she had mixed the potion, she picked up her knife again and held the glass out to him.

Shaking his head, he refused to take it.

Roger said, 'Either you drink, or I'll shoot you through the heart.'

'No,' he rasped. 'No! I'll vow 'tis poison in that glass. So I'll not drink, and you'll not shoot me. The noise of the shot would rouse the house. You'd never get away then; and my people would tear you both to pieces.'

'Maybe they would,' Roger replied. 'But you would be dead, so derive no benefit from it. Georgina, hold your knife ready and put the glass to his lips.'

Although conscious of the risk she was running, Georgina did not hesitate to do as she was bade. Roger, too, realised the risk; but it had to be taken. With her knife in her left hand and she glass in her right, Georgina bent over her husband to administer the drug.

Suddenly he struck out with both arms simultaneously.

His right sent Georgina reeling back. With his left, he dashed the glass from her hand, so that it rolled across the floor, spilling its contents on the carpet. Flinging himself sideways, he wrenched open a drawer in his bedside table. In it there lay a pistol.

But Roger was too quick for him. Before he could grab it, Roger's right fist caught him a terrific blow on the side of his stomach, just below his ribs. He gasped, and rolled over on his back. Roger's fist came down again, this time full on his solar plexus, driving the breath out of his body. Next moment Roger had sprung upon him and was holding him down. But he needed little holding. His limbs had gone limp, his eyes were bulging from his head, and he was making horrible retching sounds.

'Quick, Georgina,' Roger cried. 'Pour another measure of the potion, and bring it to me.'

Picking up the glass, she tipped half what remained of the drug into it, added water and brought it to Roger.

By then von Haugwitz's breath was coming back in choking sobs, but he still had not the strength to struggle. Instead of taking the glass from Georgina, Roger said to her, 'Pinch his nose tight with one hand, and pour the stuff down his throat with the other. But slowly, a little at a time, or he will sick it up.'

Georgina took her time. Her husband, pinned down by Roger, lay glaring helplessly at her, while the potion trickled down his throat. When the last drop was gone, Roger said, 'Now gag him. Then tie a strip of linen to each of his wrists, and their other ends to the bedposts, just as we did with Lisala.'

Five minutes later, they had von Haugwitz firmly secured, and left him. Enormously elated by die success of their des­perate undertaking, hand in hand, but still a little breathless, they made their way in silence back to Roger's room. When they reached it, Georgina asked in a husky voice:

'What do we do now?'

Seating himself on the side of the bed, he drew her down beside him. 'We have to wait until the drug has had time to take effect. We'll then be faced with our worst problem. Where to hide them, so that in the morning the servants will believe that they both got up early and went out.'

'Why not in the wine press where we hid Charles?' Geor­gina suggested at once. 'No-one is ever in the Weinstube during the eagly part of the day. Pressing docs not start until late in the afternoon.'

'Bless you!' Roger exclaimed. 'It will be no easy business to get them down there. But we'll manage somehow.'

Half an hour later they went to Lisala's room. She was in a deep sleep, and when shaken violently showed no reaction.

Having removed her gag, freed her wrists and pocketed the strips of linen, Roger proceeded to remove her nightdress, as he said, 'We must leave this here, so that the maid will find it and assume that she got up early and dressed herself.'

For a moment he gazed down on the superbly beautiful body from which, many months ago, he had derived such delirious pleasure; but it meant no more to him now than a hunk of dead meat. Hoisting Lisala's naked body over his shoulder, he made towards the door. Georgina preceded him, carrying the dark lantern. They moved cautiously through long passages and down winding flights of stairs, fearful that von Haugwitz might have posted a night watchman to make sure that no-one left the Castle without his permission. But, appar­ently, he had relied on nobody being able to secure horses without rousing his grooms, and that anyone who made off clandestinely on foot could be pursued and brought back with­in a few hours. Twenty minutes proved enough for Roger to get Lisala to the Weinstube and lower her gently into the wine press.

Returning upstairs, they went to Ulrich's room. He, too, was in a deep slumber, snoring loudly. With him they followed the same procedure; but he was a heavy man and to get him down proved much more difficult. Several times Roger had to rest. At others, Georgina took her husband's feet while Roger supported his head and shoulders. But, at length, they carried him into the Weinstube, hoisted his naked body up and let it fall into the press beside that of Lisala.

Spent by their exertions, Roger and Georgina went to the dining room and fortified themselves with glasses of Muscatel wine. By then it was three o'clock in the morning. After they had rested a while, Roger said:

'It was arranged that we should start for Frankfurt at eight o'clock in the morning. You will have your breakfast brought to you in bed as usual. I shall have mine downstairs. We must be ready to set off promptly. The drug should keep them asleep until at least midday. That will give us four hours' start. But, with luck, they will sleep on well into the afternoon, which will give us longer before Ulrich can send his men in pursuit of us.'

Georgina laughed. 'Whenever they wake, it is going to be mightily embarrassing for them to find themselves naked, and have to make their way back to their rooms in the nude. At least one of the servants is certain to see them. But it would be even more amusing if they are still in the press when the vintagers arrive to start pressing. They would then become the laughing stock of the country for miles round.'

Roger laughed too, then yawned. 'I'm desperate sleepy. Let us snatch two or three hours' rest before we play the final act and make our bid for freedom.' Lovingly they kissed; then, again hand in hand, went upstairs to their rooms.

At seven, the footman who was looking after Roger woke him from a deep sleep. At seven-thirty he went down to break­fast. As usual, Big Karl stood near the door of the dining room, superintending the service. Roger had never suffered from nerves, and said to him quite casually:

'The Herr Baron came to my room a while ago. He has decided not, after all, to go in to Frankfurt, and has already gone out to supervise the vintaging. The Gnadigefrau Baronin will come with me, to show me the city. But my wife intends to remain behind, and keep the Herr Baron company.'

Big Karl bowed stiffly and accepted this information with a stolid face. Servants in great houses miss little of what goes on among their betters. Karl and his underlings, male and female, knew well enough that their master was sleeping with Roger's wife, and that Roger was sleeping with their mistress. Roger had, in fact, counted on it that they would put their own interpretation on the wish of von Haugwitz and himself to spend a day alone with each other's wives, and so not sus­pect that he intended to make off for good with Georgina.

Shortly before eight o'clock, Georgina appeared. Ilse was behind her, carrying two heavy valises. For a moment Roger feared that the sight of them might arouse suspicion that she was about to run away with him. But she promptly stilled his fears by saying, loudly enough for Big Karl to hear, 'These are the things that Ulrich wished to have valued by the silver­smith in Frankfurt.'

A coach stood ready at the door. It was, as Roger had ex­pected, one of the Baron's, which meant that he would have to leave his own behind; but that could not be helped. A groom stood nearby with Roger's charger. As Georgina got into the coach, she gave Use a long, grateful look. Roger mounted and they set off down the curving mountain road.

When they reached the main road which ran alongside the broad river, the coachman reined his horses to the left, in the direction of Mayence and Frankfurt. Relieved that they had succeeded in getting away from the Castle without a hitch, Roger had allowed his thoughts to wander. They had traversed a good half-mile when, with a sudden, awful shock, it struck him that von Haugwitz's arrangements for the coach to be held up must still stand.

The Baron's men would obey his order to fire from their ambush in the direction of the coach; and, when it was brought to a halt, surround it. But what then? They would expect him to be with it, to give them further orders and call off the joke. If he was not, what course would they adopt? The most prob­able answer seemed that they would feel called on to continue to play their role as bandits, capture the occupants of the coach, carry them off to some nearby hiding place, and send to the Castle for instructions.

When the Baron could not be found, Big Karl would take charge of the affair and, no doubt, decree that the prisoners should be held until his master reappeared. By afternoon the infuriated von Haugwitz should again be in a position to give orders. One way or another he would contrive that they spelt death for Roger and Georgina.

Spurring his horse forward, Roger called to the coachman to pull up. With a look of surprise, the man obeyed. Roger then said, 'Now turn about.'

Instead of doing so, the coachman replied, 'We are going to Frankfurt, mein Herr.'

'No. I have changed my mind. We are going to Coblenz.'

The man scowled at him and protested sharply. 'I am driv­ing this coach to Frankfurt. Those are the Herr Baron's orders.'

Roger felt certain then that the coachman was in the plot, and knew about the hold-up that was to take place further along the road; perhaps even only a few hundred yards ahead. He gave a quick glance in that direction, but could see no movement among the trees and bushes which covered the slope up from the roadside. Pulling a pistol from his holster, he pointed it at the coachman, and cried:

'Do as I say. Turn the coach about, or I'll put a bullet into you, then drive it myself.'

Muttering an oath, the man turned the vehicle round. As he did so, a young footman who had been perched on the boot, jumped down and ran off into the bushes.

Cursing his own negligence in having forgotten both the ambush and that, according to custom, a footman would ride on the back of the coach, Roger roared at the coachman, 'Now put your horses into a gallop, or I'll blow your head off.'

Cowed by the threat, the man whipped up his horses, and the coach rattled along the stony road at full speed. But now Roger was really worried. The footman would report to Big Karl what had happened. They would search for the Baron in vain. It was quite possible that the steward was fully aware of his master's intentions. In any case, he knew that it had been planned to ambush the coach; so the odds were that he would take it on himself to send mounted men after it.

Inside the coach, poor Georgina was bounced from side to side. She had caught only Roger's last shouted order to the coachman. Clutching the window-frame, she thrust her head out and called to him, 'What has happened? Whither are we going, and why at such a pace?'

'To Coblenz,' he shouted back. 'This rogue on the box would have driven us into the ambush had I not thought to make him turn about in time. But Coblenz is thirty miles or more down­stream. I fear we'll be pursued, and there alone lies safety, so we must make all possible speed.'

As the coach passed below the Schloss, the horses were still going at a gallop; but after a mile, their pace began to slacken. Few men knew more about the staying power of horses than

Roger; and he grimly admitted to himself that, if they were to complete the journey, the most that could be expected of them was a fast trot, cased every mile or two by dropping into a walk.

Having ordered the coachman to slow down, Roger began to assess their chances of getting away. For the footman who had bolted to get back to the height on which the Schloss stood, then trudge up the road to it should take a good three-quarters of an hour. Another half-hour might be spent in unavailingly searching for von Haugwitz in the vineyards, then a final quar­ter of an hour for Big Karl to decide to act on his own and have his men saddle up.

That meant that the coach would have at least an hour and a half's start. But it could not travel at much more than ten miles an hour, whereas mounted men could do twenty. By the time they started, the coach should be about half-way to Coblenz, but after that the gap would swiftly close. If the pur­suers rode hard, they might overtake the coach at any spot on the last ten miles to Coblenz.

"What then?' wondered Roger. As the Confederation of the Rhine was a part of Napoleon's empire, he had gone to Langenstein in uniform. Once in Coblenz, where there was a French garrison, no-one would dare lay a hand on him; although, now that he had ditched Lisala, it was certain that she would be­tray him, so he must disappear before he could be caught and hauled back to face a firing squad at the order of the Emperor. It followed that his chances of getting away would be better if no-one in Coblenz could report that he had passed through that city.

But speculation about the future was, for the moment, be­yond the point; since the odds were that von Haugwitz's men would overtake the coach before it reached Coblenz. Would they dare detain a French Colonel? Since they owed allegiance only to the Baron, he feared they would; for it was he, not they who would have to account for the act. And von Haugwitz could justify it by the fact that Roger was making off with his wife.

The slow descent from the Schloss, their setting out towards Frankfurt and turning the coach round had delayed their tak­ing the road to Coblenz by a good half-hour; but they had covered fifteen miles by ten o'clock—roughly the hour that Roger judged Big Karl might send his men in pursuit of them. With the horses trotting and walking alternately, they pro­gressed another five miles. Then disaster overtook them.

For the first hour, Roger had ridden alongside the coach­man, keeping a sharp eye on him. Then, assuming that the man had become resigned to driving them in to Coblenz, he had, now and then, dropped a little behind, to talk to Geor­gina. He was doing so and the coach was moving at a smart trot, when it suddenly swerved and hit with its near forewheel a large boulder at the side of the road. As a result of the im­pact, the front axle snapped and, tilting sideways, the vehicle came to an abrupt halt.

Convinced that the coachman had caused the accident de­liberately Roger, swearing like a trooper, rode up alongside him, lifted his riding switch and slashed the man with it again and again across the head, shoulders and face. Screaming with pain the man fell into the road from the far side of the box. But this ferocious chastisement could not mend the axle.

A village could be seen in the distance; and, for a moment, Roger thought of galloping into it to fetch a wheelwright. Then he dismissed the idea as useless, for it would have taken several hours' work to repair the damage to the coach. Another pos­sibility was to mount Georgina behind him, ride into the vil­lage and take the ferry across the river to the far bank. But to do so would be to court great danger. In theory, the other side of the river was French territory, but French writ did not run there. Napoleon's garrisons were stationed only in towns many miles apart. Between the rivers Rhine and Moselle lay the Hunsruck mountains. Bands of deserters of all nations roamed their forest heights; robbing, looting, murdering at will. He could not possibly take Georgina across the many miles of al­most trackless territory inhabited by outlaws.

Georgina had scrambled from the lurching coach. With a courage that had all Roger's admiration, she said quietly, 'This is most unfortunate. What would be best for us to do now?'

By then, Roger had come to a decision, and replied, 'There's only one thing for it, m'dear. We'll take the horses from the coach, and you must ride.'

Kicking the recumbent coachman in the ribs, he said, 'Get up, you filth. Help me unharness the horses. You're lucky that I have, not thrown you in the river to drown. And I will yet if you give me the least trouble.'

Mopping his bleeding face, the man staggered to his feet and, with trembling fingers, set about unbuckling the harness. Handing the reins of his charger to Georgina, Roger adjusted the stirrups and mounted her upon it. Then, as soon as one of the coach horses had been freed, he strapped on its back the coach rug, folded into a thick pad to serve as a makeshift sad­dle for himself. The other horse he intended to use as a lead horse, and lashed to its back the two valises containing Geor-gina's most precious possessions. Finally, he turned to the coachman and snapped:

Take off your coat. I want it.'

For a moment the man stared at him in surprise; then, feeling that it was a cheap price to pay for escaping with his life from this terrible Frenchman, he wriggled out of the gar­ment and handed it over. He was a tall man; the coat a long one, coming down nearly to his ankles, and it had a wide, triple collar. It had occurred to Roger that it would completely cover his uniform, and thus enable him to pass any French troops they might encounter in Coblenz, without being saluted and, possibly, remembered. Picking up the coachman's hat for good measure, he hauled himself up on to his makeshift saddle and, with Georgina beside him, rode away from the wrecked coach.

But now it was more than ever uncertain if they would reach Coblenz without being caught. The breakdown of the coach had cost them a good twenty minutes, and it was close on eleven o'clock. If mounted men had been sent after them by this time they could not be far behind; and there was still a third of the way to go. Yet, as sometimes happens, good comes out of seem­ing ill-fortune; since, without the heavy coach to pull, the horses were capable of greater speed.

With Roger now and then glancing apprehensively over his shoulder, they passed through two more villages and made another five miles. Then, as they were coming to the end of a long, straight stretch of road, he looked back and saw that five horsemen had just entered the stretch at a fast trot.

'They are after us,' he called to Georgina. 'But their horses must be near as tired as ours. Get all the speed you can out of yours.'

Spurring their mounts, they rounded the bend at a canter, with Georgina, who had always been a splendid horsewoman, leading. A quarter of a mile further on, Roger shouted to her to ease up. He had seen, as he had hoped he might, a track leading off the road up through the vineyards. Turning into it, they rode on for a couple of hundred yards, then dismounted and led the horses in among the vines. Unlike the low-growing vines in most countries, those on the Rhine and Moselle are trained up six-foot-tall poles; so anyone hiding among them could not be seen from the road.

Ten minutes later, they caught the sound of hoofbeats. Roger went on tiptoe to steal a glance through the vine tops at their pursuers. Then he began to laugh. The horsemen were not von Haugwitz's people, but a little troop of Hessian Hussars.

For a few minutes they stood there, then Roger suddenly had an idea. 'Quick!' he exclaimed. 'We must mount again and go after them.'

Puzzled, but without questioning him, Georgina swung her­self into the saddle and followed him down the track. Their horses having had a breather, were capable of cantering again, so they were soon only fifty yards behind the Hussars. Hear­ing them come up, the leader of the troop, a Corporal, turned in his saddle. Roger had not yet put on the coachman's coat and hat, but had them tied to the lead horse. Seeing his re­splendent uniform, the Corporal called his men to attention, and saluted. Roger returned the salute, and gave him a friendly greeting. Then he said in a low voice to Georgina:

'Ease your pace. I don't want to have to talk to them, only remain near enough to them for it to appear that we are with them.'

Two miles further on, the spires of Coblenz were in sight.

But a minute later hoofbeats sounded on the road behind. They had just rounded another bend of the river, and Roger turned to see four horsemen flogging their steeds into a gallop. Their leader was Big Karl.

As they approached, Roger said to Georgina, 'Ride on, and leave this to me.' Then he reined in his horse, and turned it to face von Haugwitz's men. When Big Karl pulled up in front of him, Roger asked with a smile:

'Where are you off to in such a hurry?'

Karl's eyes glinted angrily, as he replied, ‘We have come to take you and my master's wife back to Schloss Langenstein.'

'Have you indeed?' Roger said quietly. 'Then I fear you will have had your ride for nothing. You will observe that the Gnadigefrau Baronin and I have an escort. Dare to lay a hand on us and, as a French Colonel, I will call on those sol­diers of a country allied to France to seize you; then, in Coblenz, I'll charge you and your men with attempting to carry us off with intent to rob us.'

With a contemptuous smile, he turned his horse about, and cantered off to join Georgina. For a few minutes Big Karl and his men remained where they were, arguing heatedly. Then they too turned their horses about, and rode slowly away.

A mile further on, they entered the last village before Coblenz. Checking Georgina, Roger said a word of farewell to the Hussars who, quite unconsciously, had served them so well; then turned off down a side street. Beyond the last house there were again vineyards. Dismounting among the vines, he donned the coachman's coat and hat. Then they rode back to the main road and into the city. The bells of the churches were chiming midday as they walked their tired horses over the bridge of boats to the safety of French territory.

They had been up for most of the previous night, and the strain endured during their thirty-mile journey had been se­vere; so, at an inn on the outskirts of the city, they pulled up to rest themselves and their horses. After spending an hour drinking a bottle of wine and eating a platter of brodchen, they rode on again, as Roger was anxious to get away from

Coblenz where, despite his thin disguise, he might be recog­nised by an officer of the garrison.

Their way now lay along the beautiful, winding valley of the Moselle. On one bank there were lush green meadows with cattle grazing in them, and orchards of apple, cherry and plum; on the other steep gradients clothed with tall vines. Soon after they left the city, Roger took off the coachman's coat and hat as, wherever they stayed the night, he would have to reveal his uniform; but he removed his decorations and the insignia that showed him to be a Staff Colonel.

Some eight miles from Coblenz, they came to the village of Winningen. The inn there, with its vine-covered terrace, looked a pleasant place; so, deciding they had gone far enough, Roger took a room for them there in the name of Captain and Madame Bonthon.

Now, very, very tired, but marvellously content to be alone together, they ate an early supper, then went to bed and slept the clock round.

Next day they spent lounging on the terrace in the September sunshine. They spoke little, but smiled at each other fre­quently. It was not until the evening that Roger said:

'My love, we have to make a plan. When Lisala gets back to Vienna, she will cook my goose with Napoleon once and for all. She knows too much of the truth about me not to be believed. My career as M. le Colonel Baron de Breuc is fin­ished.'

Georgina stretched out a hand, grasped his, pressed it and said softly, 'And you have sacrificed it in order to save me.'

He smiled. 'Dear heart, I am happy to have done so. It could well have ended on a battlefield, and that could have done no-one any good. In due course, I will make my way back to England; but the trouble is that did I attempt to go now it would be exceeding difficult to take you with me.'

'Then let us remain in these parts,' she suggested. ‘I brought my jewels with me in one of the valises. Their value far ex­ceeds the sum needed to purchase a small property. We could give out that we are refugees from some part of the country that has been devastated, and fade into a rustic background until the war is over.'

Sadly he shook his head. 'No. There is nothing I would love more; but it is not practical. If one has to hide, it is easier to do so in a city than in the country. Villagers are inveterate gossips. The arrival of two well-born strangers such as you and me would incite their curiosity to the utmost. Our elope­ment from Schloss Langenstein and my having turned out to be a British spy will be talked of far and wide. Sooner or later, someone will recognise a description of one of us and our bliss would end in tragedy. I would be hauled up to be shot and you would be left without anyone to protect you. And, as an Englishwoman among your country's enemies, a protector you must have.'

'Roger, you know well that there is no-one whom I can rely on as a protector, except you.' ‘Yes, my love; there is ... the Archduke John.' 'Oh, John. Yes, but...'

With a wave of his hand, he cut her short. 'All today I have been thinking of this matter. Having your best interests at heart, I feel that the right thing to do is to take you to Pressburg, or wherever his headquarters may now be, and hand you over to him. He will, I am sure, see to it that no trouble befalls you; and, as soon as it is possible, he will be able to send you back to England under diplomatic protection.'

After a moment's thought, she said, 'Much as I was taken with John, I have never lived openly as any man's mistress, and am not prepared to do so, even for an Archduke. But you are right, that he could get me back to England. And I do wish that. I long to be with Charles during his teenage years that can do so much to form the character of a man. But what of you?'

He laughed. 'Don't worry your sweet head about me. Old campaigners never die. I'll procure civilian clothes and go into hiding for a while. But, sooner or later, I'll turn up on your doorstep at Stillwaters.'

So it was agreed that next day they should start to make their way to Upper Austria.

When morning came, they went down to breakfast in the little coffee room. The waiter handed Roger a news-sheet printed in Coblenz the previous afternoon. For a moment he glanced indifferently at the headlines. Then he exclaimed:

'God alive! Georgina, listen to this.'

'most mysterious tragedy of the century.

'It is reported that the Herr Baron Ulrich von Haugwitz, and a French lady, the Baronne de Breuc, were found dead yesterday in the most extraordinary circumstances. The ques­tioning of the servants at the Herr Baron's Sc/doss Langenstein leads to the belief that the two were lovers. For some utterly inexplicable reason, they elected to consummate their passion for each other in a wine press. Presumably they fell asleep there, and failed to wake when, in the late afternoon, vintagers tipped hods of grapes into the press upon them. Or it may be that they were swiftly suffocated.

'Their presence at the bottom of the vat remained undis­covered until the must running from the press took on an un­usual pinkish colour. The Kellermeister ordered the press to be emptied. Only then, when a ton of crushed grapes had been removed, there was revealed, to the amazement and horror of those present, the naked, flattened corpses of the Herr Baron and the French Baronne.'

Falling silent, Roger stared across at Georgina.

After a moment she murmured, 'How terrible, darling. But now Lisala can never denounce you to the Emperor; and beta of us are free. Really free.'