The president spoke again.
"Are there any here who are against the election of Constantine"--I could not catch the other name, which was a long Polish one, I think--"to the place on the council, vacant since the murder of our comrade, Vladimir Selinski?"
Selinski! Ca.s.savetti! He little guessed as he spoke that the man who found Ca.s.savetti"s body was now within five paces of him!
Not a hand was raised, and the man who had not voted stepped on to the dais, in obedience to a gesture from the president, and took his seat in silence.
A hoa.r.s.e murmur of approval went round; but that was all. The grim quietude of these men was more fearful than any amount of noise could have been, and, as the president raised his hand slightly, a dead silence fell.
"Remains now only that we do justice on the murderess of Selinski, the traitress who has betrayed our secrets, has frustrated many of our plans, has warned more than one of those whom we have justly doomed to death--her lover among them--with the result that they have escaped, for the present. We would not condemn her unheard, but so far she is obdurate; she defies us, endeavors once more to trick us. If she were other than she is, or rather than she has been, she would have been removed long since, when suspicion first fell upon her; but there are many of us who love her still, who would not believe her guilty without the evidence of their own eyes and ears; and therefore we have brought her here that she may speak for herself, defend herself if that is possible. It will rest with you to acquit or condemn her!"
He spoke quite quietly, but the cool, deliberate malignity of his tone was horrible; and somehow I knew that the majority of those present shared his animosity against the prisoner, although he had spoken of "many of us who love her."
The man beside me touched my arm, and spoke to me in French.
"Do you understand him?"
"Yes, do you?"
"No."
There was no time for more, for, at a signal from the president, a door at the side near the dais was opened, and a woman was led in by two men, each holding her by an arm. They released her, and she stepped back a pace, and stood against the wall, her hands pressed against it on either side, bracing herself like a royal creature at bay.
It was Anne herself, and for a moment I stood, unable to move, scarcely able to breathe. There was something almost unearthly about her beauty and courage. The feeble lamplight seemed to strengthen, and to concentrate itself on her face,--colorless save for the vivid red lips,--on her eyes, wide and brilliant with indignation, on the bright hair that shone like a queenly crown. Wrath, and scorn, and defiance were expressed by the beautiful face, the tense figure; but never a trace of fear.
They were all looking at her, as I was, in silence,--a curious hush that lasted but a few seconds, but in which I could hear the beating of my own heart; it sounded as loud as a sledge hammer.
The spell was broken by a cry from the man with the pointed beard next me who sprang forward towards her, shouting in English: "Anne! Anne! It is I, your father!"
I was only just less quick; we reached her almost together, and faced about, shielding her with our bodies, and covering those nearest us with our revolvers.
"Father! Maurice!" I heard her sob. "Oh, I knew, I knew you would come!"
"What is this devilry?" shouted Anthony Pendennis in French. "How comes my daughter here? She is a British subject, and you--you shall pay dearly--"
He got no further. Our action had been so swift, so unexpected, that the whole crowd stood still, as if paralyzed by sheer astonishment, for a few breathless seconds.
"Spies! Traitors! Kill them all!" shouted the president, springing forward, revolver in hand.
Those words were his last, for he threw up his arms and fell as my first shot got him. The rest came at us all together, like a mob of furious wild beasts. They were all armed, some with revolvers, others with the horrible little bludgeons they call "killers,"--a short heavy bar of lead set on a strong copper spring, no bigger than an ordinary round office ruler, but more deadly at close quarters than a revolver.
I flung up my left hand, tore down the lamp that hung just above us, and hurled it among them. It was extinguished as it fell, and that gave us a small advantage, for the other lamp was at the far end, and its faint light did not reach us, but only served to dimly show us our antagonists. I felt Anne sink down to the floor behind me, though whether a shot had reached her or she had fainted I did not know.
When I had emptied my revolver I dropped it, grabbed a "killer" from the hand of a fellow I had shot pointblank, and laid about me with that. I suppose Pendennis did the same. As Loris had warned me, when it came to shooting, there was no time for reloading; but the "killer" was all right. I wonder he hadn"t given me one!
We were holding our own well, in spite of the tremendous odds, and after a while--though whether it was five minutes or fifty I couldn"t say--they gave back a bit. There was quite a heap of dead and wounded round about us; but I don"t think Anne"s father was hurt as yet, and I felt no pain, though my left arm hung limp and useless, numbed by a blow from a "killer" that had missed my head; and something warm was dripping down my right wrist.
"What now?" I heard Pendennis say, in that brief lull in the pandemonium.
"G.o.d knows. We can"t get to the door; we must fight it out here; they"re coming on again. On guard!"
We swung up our weapons, but before the rush could reach us, there was a crash close at hand; the door through which Anne and her guards had entered the chapel was thrown open, and a big man dashed in,--Loris himself, still in his disguise. So he had reached us at last!
He must have grasped the situation at a glance, for he shouted: "Back; back for your lives! By the other door. We are betrayed; the soldiers are here. They are coming this way. Save yourselves!"
CHAPTER XXI
A FORLORN HOPE
They were a craven crew,--bold enough when arrayed in their numbers against two men and one helpless girl, but terror-stricken at these fresh tidings.
That was my opinion of them at the time, but perhaps it was unjust.
Every man who attended that meeting had done so at the deliberate risk of his life and liberty. Most of them had undoubtedly tramped the whole way to the rendezvous, through the storm and swelter of the summer night, and they were fatigued and unstrung. Also, the Russian--and especially the revolutionary Russian--is a queer psychological amalgam.
Ordinarily as callous and stoical as a Chinaman in the infliction or endurance of death or torture, he is yet a bundle of high-strung nerves, and at any moment his cool cynicism is liable to give place to sheer hysteria.
Therefore at the warning shout, panic seized them, and they fled, helter-skelter, through the main door. In less than a minute the place was clear of all but ourselves and the dead and wounded on the floor.
Loris slammed the door, barred it, and strode back to us. Pendennis was kneeling beside Anne, calling her by her name, and I leaned against the wall, staring stupidly down at them. I was faint and dizzy all at once, incapable for the moment of either speech or action.
"Well done, my friend!" the Duke exclaimed. "You thought I had failed you, eh? Come, we must get out of this quickly. They will return when they find it is a ruse. Is she hurt?"
He pushed Pendennis aside unceremoniously, and lifted Anne in his arms, as easily as if she had been a child.
I think she must have been regaining consciousness, for I heard him say rapidly and tenderly:
"Courage, _pet.i.te_, thou shalt soon be safe."
"Who are you?" demanded Pendennis, peering at him in perplexity. His disguise was palpable and incongruous enough, now that he was speaking in his natural voice.
"Her friend, as I presume you are; therefore follow if you would save her and yourself. There is no time for talk!"
With Anne in his arms he made for the door by which he had entered, and Pendennis rushed after him. Anne"s arms were round his neck; she was clinging to him, and her head lay on his shoulder. I saw the gleam of her bright hair as they pa.s.sed through the doorway,--the last I was to see of Anne Pendennis for many a long day.
I staggered forward, trying to beat back the horrible faintness that was overwhelming me, and to follow them, stumbled over a corpse, and fell headlong. An agonizing pain shot through me, beginning at my left arm, and I knew now that it was broken. The pain dispelled the faintness for the time being, but I made no attempt to rise. Impossible to follow them now, or even if not impossible, I could be of no service; I should only hamper their flight. Better stay here and die.
I think I prayed that I might die soon; I know I prayed that they might yet reach safety. Where had Anne"s father sprung from? How could he have known of her capture, of this meeting in the heart of the woods? How had he made his way here?
Why, he must himself belong to this infernal society, as she did; that was it, of course. What an abominable din this was in my head,--worse to bear than the pain of my wounds. In my head? No, the noise was outside--shrieks and shouts, and the crackle of rifles. I dragged myself to a sitting posture and listened. The Duke had said that his tale of the soldiers was a mere ruse, but certainly there was a fight going on outside. Were the soldiers there, and had Loris unwittingly spoken the truth,--or had he himself betrayed the revolutionists as a last resource? Unanswerable questions, all of them; so why worry about them?
But they kept whirling round maddeningly in my half delirious brain, while the din still raged without, though it seemed to be abating.
The remaining lamp had flickered out, but sufficient light came now through the gaps in the broken roof to enable me to see about me. The place was like a shambles round the spot where we had taken our stand; there were five or six bodies, besides the president, whom I had shot at first. It was his corpse I had stumbled over, so he had his revenge in a way.
I found myself wondering idly how long it would be before they would search the chapel, and if it would be worth while to try and get out by the door through which Loris had come and gone; but, though I made a feeble effort to get on my feet, it was no good. I was as weak as an infant. I discovered then that I was soaked with blood from bullet wounds in my right arm and in my side, though I felt no pain from them at the time; all the pain was concentrated in my broken left arm.
There came a battering at the barred door, to which my back was turned, and a moment afterwards the other door swung open, and an officer sprang in, sword in hand, followed by a couple of soldiers with fixed bayonets.