CHAPTER XX
ESCAPE
Rowland slept lightly and was awakened by a sound overhead, a scuffling upon the tiles of the roof. Herr Markov already stood upright by the window, listening. Rowland started, wide awake at once, but a gesture from his host halted him.
"Under the couch," he whispered, "the covers will hide you."
And Rowland obeyed quickly, aware that the sound of shots would soon have the hornets about their ears.
Whoever was upon the roof was slowly sliding down to the window. Soldiers! They had followed the wounded Zoya. Even the rain…?
He heard Herr Markov's voice out of the window.
"What the devil do you do up there?"
Another voice replied, and then questioned, for he heard Markov's reply.
"In here? What should anyone do in here?"
The other voice came nearer at the window-opening itself-a young voice, sharp, peremptory.
"What is this house?"
"A lodging house, Herr Lieutnant. You see-of the poorer class."
"Who keeps it?"
"Frau Nisko, Herr Lieutnant. It is number sixteen."
"No one entered by this window last night?"
"Last night! By this window!" in excellent bewilderment. "No, Herr Lieutnant. That would have been impossible. Besides, you may see for yourself-who would wish to enter here?"
"Someone may have passed through while you slept."
"I was awake all night with my wife yonder, who is very ill of tuberculosis."
"Ah-then you are certain?"
"Positive-but if the Herr Lieutnant will enter-?"
Rowland wondered at Herr Markov's temerity-also wondered what he would do if the Herr Lieutnant accepted the invitation. But fortunately the ingenuousness of Herr Markov had stopped the gap. The young officer withdrew and presently they heard his boots scrambling up the tiles overhead.
"Pfui!" said Markov, wiping the sweat from his brow as Rowland peeped out. "That was a close shave, Herr Rowland. He would have entered if I had not invited him to. Human nature is the great paradox. It always desires that which is denied it and scorns that which is proffered. Had the Herr Lieutnant been older the thing would have been difficult."
Rowland crawled out from his place of concealment and examined his host with a new interest-a new respect. An attic philosopher! He grasped Herr Markov by the hand.
"A friend indeed!" he murmured. "And what would you have done if he had come in."
Herr Markov shrugged. "I do not know. Waited, perhaps. He might have gone again." He glanced at Madame Rochal and set his jaws. "My hands are very strong, Herr Rowland. Besides, I have pledged you my word."
"It is a fearful danger into which I have brought you-"
"I have welcomed it-you need not worry."
"But if they come again-?"
"I think they will be satisfied with this. But it will not do to stay here too long. We will see. At present, since you are awake, I will go down and make some inquiries."
The sun had been up many hours, a brilliant summer day of blue and gold. Rowland cautiously brought his head up to the level of the window-sill, looking out, but the houses upon the opposite side of the street were small and this window was in no danger of observation. So he straightened and went over to Zoya, for the sound of voices had awakened her and she had turned on her bed. He felt her pulse and at the light touch of his fingers she turned her head and opened her eyes.
"Ah, Philippe," she sighed gently.
"You are feeling better?" he asked cheerfully.
"I-I am not sure," she murmured. "I ache-how I ache-from head to foot-Oh-!" She tried to move her bandaged shoulder and gasped, "I remember-him!"
"You are quite safe," he said reassuringly, "in the hands of friends."
"Safe-no, not safe, Philippe-" she muttered, "not safe while he is alive."
"Who?"
"Von Stromberg." She started up feverishly. "He fell. But as I went out of the window, I-I saw him rise. It-it is impossible to escape him-"
Her voice gained strength and Rowland soothed her gently.
"You must be quiet, Zoya. They have been here-over the roofs-but they went away again. They won't come back-"
"But he-he-is-is the devil incarnate-"
Her eyes stared at the wall above her-as at a specter of their enemy. The terror of last night had come over her again.
"Quite so. I agree with you. But I'm no longer alarmed. Why should you be? A swallow of water-and then sleep again, Zoya. You're going to be quite all right."
"I was shot-"
"Through the arm-pit-nothing serious. A few days and-"
"Whose room is this?" she asked suddenly, looking round at the bare walls and shabby furniture.
"A friend's. A Samaritan, Zoya. He has nursed you while I slept-a stranger-"
"Oh," she gave a little shrug and turned her face toward the wall. He poured out a glass of water and brought it to her. She drank it eagerly and then sank back with a sigh.
"A devil incarnate," she repeated. "And the money-?" she asked suddenly.
"Here," he laughed. "Like a millstone around my neck."
"You have it still-here?"
"Well, rather. But I wish it were in Jericho."
"You are a man, mon Phili-"
She had thrown her sound arm impulsively over his, but at a sudden sharp memory she withdrew it and turned her head toward the wall. There was a moment of silence and then he heard her voice, hard, expressionless.
"I wanted to-to vote as you wished, but-but I betrayed you. His eyes were burning me, his words-scorching-my-my very soul." And then, almost in a whisper, "You heard what he said-"
"What does it matter now?" he asked softly.
"He scourged me," she whispered again, "stripped me bare for those animals to look at. If he had killed me-if this shot had been a few inches lower-"
"But it isn't," said Rowland cheerfully. "Buck up, Zoya. The worst is yet to come. I hoped the old pelican was dead, but we'll outwit him-some way."
She turned, smiled feebly and gave him her hand again.
"You forgive me?" she asked.
"Forgive-what for? The thing was hopeless from the beginning. I was a fool to try to start anything, but it made me sore-to see the old rooster walk off with this money-under my very eyes-and he hasn't got it yet," he finished boyishly.
"What are you going to do?"
Rowland rose and put the glass on the washstand.
"I'm going to get out of here if you don't stop talking-at once-or tell your nurse."
"My nurse?"
"The Johnny whose bed you're lying on. He'll make you keep quiet."
"What will he do?"
"Give you more dope, for one thing-"
A knock upon the door, and Tanya, clad in a gray dressing gown much too large for her, entered and came quietly forward. Her glance met Rowland's as she gave him her hand. She looked a little tired but smiled as she knelt beside the bed and took one of Zoya's hands in both of hers.
"You are better, Madame?" she inquired.
"I think so. You are very good." The tones were listless-indifferent.
"We are safe for the present," said Tanya. "The soldiers at the front of the house have been withdrawn."
"Who told you this?" asked Rowland quickly.
"Frau Nisko. She answered all their questions satisfactorily."
Zoya Rochal stirred uneasily.
"Nevertheless," she said hopelessly, "they will find us."
"Don't lose courage."
"He never fails. I know."
"Who?" asked Tanya.
"Von Stromberg," she muttered. "He sees everything, knows everything. You can't escape."
Rowland shrugged.
"We're at least willing to try. And now you must sleep again, Zoya. Herr Markov-"
He paused, for Zoya started at the sound of the name, and just then the door opened and Zoya's gaze turned toward it quickly. He saw her eyes look, then stare, closing perplexedly.
"She is awake?" Herr Markov asked.
At the sound of his voice Zoya moved upon her pillow and opened her eyes again. But their strange host had come forward and laid his hand quietly over hers.
"It is I, Mariana-Matthias Markov. The good God has sent you to me-"
"Matthias!" she gasped, still looking at him.
He bowed his head gravely and raised her hand to his lips, but at the contact she closed her eyes and lay back, breathing deeply.
Tanya had taken Rowland by the hand and led him out of the room into her own.
"His moment-" she whispered. "Let him have it-with her-alone."
There was much to say and in a few words Tanya told him what Frau Nisko had learned about the disastrous results of the riot in the hall. There had been shooting-six men and a woman had been killed, and many wounded and burned in the hall and on the stairs. Four soldiers were dead, amongst them an officer. There had been fighting in the streets but the soldiers, where they could, had permitted many to escape. Order had not been restored until the early hours of the morning, when fresh companies of troops had arrived and were now patrolling the neighborhood.
"And Von Stromberg-?"
"No one knows-he has not been seen."
"Hochwald-?"
"He either-Senf, Liederman, Fenner, Weiss-were taken away-"
"Benz?"
"I don't know. He may have escaped-"
Rowland paced the floor thoughtfully.
"We can't stay here, Tanya," he said at last.
"I know-"
"It means prison or worse for Herr Markov and Frau Nisko. We've got to do something."
"But Madame Rochal-"
He frowned. "I'm thinking of her. She voted as Von Stromberg wished-
"At what a cost!" She hid her face in her hands a moment. "It is horrible to see a soul stripped bare! Poor Zoya!"
He was silent a moment, thinking deeply.
"We must do what is best for the greatest number. If you and I are taken with the money, your work in Germany is finished forever. Don't you see? Our power-our influence, are gone. We must get this money out-some way. If Hochwald has escaped he is probably already on his way to Switzerland. The dossier-the papers you have-"
"I had forgotten-"
"They must go, too-"
She thought a moment and then raised her head joyously and laid her hand in his.
"Whatever you say, mon Philippe," she said bravely.
He took her in his arms and kissed her, but she drew away from him quietly.
"The plan-?" she questioned.
He frowned and smiled in the same moment.
"It requires another-Herr Markov-but it is a brave plan," he laughed, "a wonderful plan. You shall see."
"Why can't you tell-?"
"Because without Herr Markov it fails. He may refuse-"
"I don't understand-
"A woman's curiosity!" he laughed. "Trust me. And wait."
At this moment there was a quiet knock upon the door and Frau Nisko entered with Tanya's dry clothing. Rowland was introduced and seized the woman warmly by the hand. But when he tried to thank her she demurred.
"I was born free, Herr Rowland. I would rather die than believe I shall not be free again."
"But we can't endanger you longer-tonight we must go-"
"They suspect nothing yet. But Matthias Markov is no fool. He will think of something. You do not know Herr Markov-!" she finished quietly.
"We know only that he is risking his safety and yours for strangers-
"It is not the first time. He sets no value on his life." She shrugged. "Nor I on mine. It's a pilgrimage-soon over. His life has not been a happy one-a man of wealth, of family, position-reduced through misfortune, suffering and ill health to take to the roads with a music-box. Herr Gott! And yet he pays his way-always the same, with the courage of a man and the heart of a child. Patience, forgiveness, gentleness. That is Matthias Markov."
"But why has he chosen this strange vocation?" asked Rowland.
Frau Nisko shrugged her plump shoulders again.
"He says it is because of his health, because he cannot stay indoors. But I know-"
She paused while with intense interest they waited for her to go on.
"It is not my secret, but you are his friends. His wife deserted him-ran away with another-a beautiful woman-faithless. He searches for her from one end of Europe to the other-"
Rowland and Tanya exchanged a quick glance of comprehension. Rowland stepped forward and laid a hand on Frau Nisko's arm.
"His search is ended, Frau Nisko," he said gently. And then, with a gesture toward the door of Matthias Markov, "He has found her. She is there!"
The woman gazed at him uncomprehendingly.
"Frau Markov!" she whispered.
"Madame Rochal-"
"You are sure-?"
"We left them there-alone."
Frau Nisko peered out at the eloquent panels of the closed door and they heard the deep rumble of Herr Markov's voice and Zoya's in a low tone answering him. There could be no doubt about it. Herr Markov's pilgrimage was ended. And Zoya's-? Rowland's lips set in a thin line and his glance and Tanya's met in silent communion.
In a moment there was a commotion below and a lodger came up the stairs in some excitement. Frau Nisko went out to meet him. There was a soldier at the door who wished to ask Frau Nisko a few more questions.
"Very well," she said coolly. "Tell him that I will come down at once," and the lodger departed.
She signaled them to follow and silently they reëntered the room of Herr Markov. He was sitting beside Zoya's bed, her hand in both of his, and started to his feet as they entered.
"Soldiers again, Herr Markov. They may mean to search the house. Herr Rowland and the Fräulein must go in your closet. There is a narrow opening under the eaves at the further end where two boards have been displaced. Enter, and I will hang some clothing before it. We must take the chance. We will leave the door open."
Rowland and Tanya obeyed quickly, taking the black bag; Frau Nisko, thrusting Tanya's clothing after them and hiding all traces of their presence. This was the test that Rowland had been expecting and Frau Nisko had met it with a calmness that argued for success. So Rowland and Tanya crawled through the aperture and crouched upon the naked beams of the house in the darkness, listening for the footsteps of the searchers.
"What shall you do if they find us?" whispered Tanya, her hand in Rowland's.
"Nothing," he said. "The game is up. I could shoot one man-two perhaps-but not the entire Landwehr. We won't think of that, though. It's devilish black in here-but fearfully cozy."
He drew her into his arms and silently they listened to the tramp of heavy boots upon the stair and the sound of gruff voices.
"A woman ill, you say?"
"Very ill, of lung trouble, and in high fever. My wife, Herr Lieutnant. I hope you will not find it necessary to disturb her for long." This in Markov's voice, somewhat tremulous in the depth of its appeal.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Markov. I was refused for service on account of permanent illness. My papers are here."
"Gut!"
A silence in which the officer examined them. Then the steps of the officer to and fro in the room.
"This trunk-"
"Contains merely some books-Herr Lieutnant."
"The closet-?"
The officer's steps sounded again nearer them.
"Merely some old clothes, Herr Lieutnant," said Markov's voice. "Will you enter?"
A terrible moment of suspense. But at last the footsteps turned and moved away.
"And this other room here?" asked the voice. And Frau Nisko replied coolly, "My daughter's. She works in the Kraus Locomotivfabrik."
"Ach, so!"
"And these other rooms?"
"No one. Search, Herr Lieutnant."
And presently they heard the heavy steps go thumping down the stairs. Rowland drew a long breath. It seemed that he had been holding it for hours.
This visit was a warning to them all. Rowland and Tanya crawled out of their hole in the wall, somewhat pallid, and covered with dust, but determined that an effort of some sort to escape must be made at once. Herr Markov agreed with them and a council was held. Rowland, who had been doing some serious thinking, at once startled them by revealing what was in his mind.
"If Herr Markov will sell his donkey and piano-organ," he said, "I will give him ten thousand marks for them."
Zoya Rochal turned on her pillow and looked at him curiously, while Frau Nisko threw up her hands and repeated the fabulous sum.
But Herr Markov had straightened.
"So you had thought of that, too, Herr Rowland?"
"There is nothing else," shrugged Rowland helplessly. "Whatever happens I must get this money through to Switzerland-and in the machine there is perhaps room-"
"Yes, yes-there is room," said Markov thoughtfully. "We could make room. My poor instrument of torture! And Fra Umberto!"
"You do not wish to part with them?"
"It is not that. But I would not sell them, Herr Rowland. What I give, I give, – in the fullness of my heart."
"I can't ask more of you. Perhaps it will be but a loan-"
"Wait-," said Markov, his hand to his brow. "I am thinking." They watched in a moment of silence, when Herr Markov rose and took a pace or two toward the window.
"Yes. Yes. It could be done. It shall be done. My poor machine! We shall disembowel it-take out all its poor noisy entrails. It can be done in a short while. And the Fräulein shall sit inside, and travel in state to the Swiss border."
"A stroke of genius," cried Rowland excitedly. "I hadn't thought of that. And the money-?"
"A soft cushion of bank notes to sit upon."
"Ten thousand marks-a hundred thousand if you will but do it."
Matthais Markov looked at him reproachfully.
"Herr Rowland does not understand," he said gently. "It is not my poverty-but my heart-that consents."
Rowland bowed his head and caught Markov by the hand.
"Forgive me, my friend," he muttered.
Markov waved his apologies aside.
"It shall be done. The Fräulein shall go and-"
Zoya gave a hard little laugh.
"And what becomes of me?" she asked.
Markov rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The question it seemed for the moment had stricken him dumb.
"It will be some days, Zoya," said Rowland quickly, "before you can be moved-"
"In the meanwhile you will leave me here at the mercy of Baron von Stromberg?" she asked querulously.
Frau Nisko looked pained but spoke up bravely: "They have done what they could-you were not recognized-"
"But if he should come-" she shuddered.
"The chances are one in a hundred-"
"But that one chance-! It is the one he never neglects."
Another silence in which Zoya relaxed again upon her pillow, groaning. Markov crossed to the side of the bed and bent over her.
"What is it that you wish-Maria-" he paused in a significant confusion, and then finished painfully, calling her by the name they knew-"What can we do-Madame Rochal?"
She straightened again and sat up in bed, her eyes flashing feverishly.
"Who is to stay here with me?" she asked. "Am I to be deserted, flaunted, cast aside into the gutter for my enemy to step upon? Am I no longer of any value-any account in your reckonings?" She laughed hysterically. "Go!" she whispered. "Go! I don't care."
"Sh-! Mariana! Sh-! Madame," whispered Markov soothingly. "There is no danger. No one can harm you. Did you not vote as Von Stromberg wished? He can have nothing against you. What can he do? In less than a week I will return-"
"You!" muttered Frau Nisko.
Zoya slowly raised herself on one elbow while Tanya looked at Rowland uncomprehendingly, the nature of the sacrifice Markov was making slowly dawning on her.
"Who else?" said Markov quietly. "It would be suicide for Herr Rowland. I have my papers. It is simplicity itself. In four days I shall be at Lindenhof. It is a mile from Lindau, on the Bodensee-Lake Constance. The Fräulein and the money shall cross into Switzerland from there at night in a boat. It is a village I know well. It can be arranged. Then I shall return by train to Munich."
Tanya had said nothing and her lips were tightly compressed with a meaning that Rowland had learned to understand.
"And you, Philippe?" she asked quietly.
"What I have done once before," he murmured soberly, "shall be accomplished again."
His look silenced the protest that was rising to her lips. She only clasped her hands nervously a moment, but said nothing.
"And you will stay here-mon ami, for a few days-until I am better," questioned Zoya eagerly.
"There's nothing else," he said with a shrug.
Pain clutched at the hearts of at least three persons in that room, but Matthias Markov suffered the most. Rowland could see it in the lines of his eyes, which had suddenly made him seem quite old again. The years that had parted Markov and the woman who bore his name had only served to widen the breach between them-a breach that all the love and tenderness in the world from such a man as he could never hope to fill. Even on her bed of pain Zoya remained the mondaine while Matthias Markov, to her at least, was only the hurdy-gurdy man. She had repudiated him, had forbidden him to use her name. It was piteous. But Herr Markov shrugged his lean shoulders and managed a smile for Rowland and Tanya, in which they both read a new meaning of abnegation and sacrifice.
Zoya had sunk back upon her pillow, so Herr Markov gave her another opiate and presently she slept. Then while Frau Nisko went down stairs to reassure herself that all was well below, Rowland and Tanya listened to Markov's itinerary between Munich and Lindau. Fra Umberto could travel thirty miles a day if he had to. It was nothing-if the Fräulein would not get tired within the instrument of torture-Landsberg tomorrow night, Memmingen the night after, then Weingarten and Lindenhof-four days at the most. He, Markov, had been over the road often and knew it well. At Lindenhof he had a great friend, a fisherman and a vine-grower named Gratz who lived with his poverty like a prince in the ruined schloss of Kempelstein. There they would go. And there take boat from the very walls of the schloss to Switzerland and freedom.
In the meanwhile they must decide upon a simple code of numerals and letters for the telegraph, to be sent to Weingarten in case of important information or warning. When that was arranged, Markov went down stairs to find a screw driver, wrench and hammer to "disembowel" the dear "machine of torture."
They followed him out of the room with their glances and then with one accord gazed at the sleeping woman. She lay breathing deeply, one graceful arm under her head and her lips were smiling. Tanya's mood toward her had changed.
"You saw?" she asked in a whisper. "She repudiated him. She is not worth waiting for." And then impulsively she threw her arms around Rowland's neck, whispering tensely, "Come, Philippe-tonight, with me. He should stay here-it is his place-"
Rowland kissed her gently.
"It would not be safe, dear. You must get through to Switzerland-with the money. Don't make things too hard for me-"
"Ah, Philippe," she whispered. "I am nothing without you. His papers-a disguise-"
But Rowland shook his head.
"It is dangerous. We should both be lost and that which I came to save. In this way you at least shall get through surely-"
"But you? We have found life together-I am frightened for you."
"Don't worry. I'll pull through-some way."
"Come, Philippe," she whispered again. "Life or death-together!"
He held her close in his arms, aware that the moment of her weakness should be his for strength, and soothed her gently.
"This way means life for both of us-success. I am not afraid. I will follow soon. Would you have me less noble than he?" he asked.
She was silent and after a while she raised her head and he saw that the moment of her uncertainty had passed.
"I will go," she murmured, and he kissed away the moisture that had gathered at her eyes before it fell.
"Princess Tatyana!" he laughed, "if you will only wave your wand-no evil can come to me."
* * * * *
And so it was that that evening, just after dark, a very tall man and a very small donkey hauling a hurdy-gurdy, passed southward along the Sommer Strasse and were soon lost in the darkness of the night.