Chapter 26

THE TURN OF THE SCREW

It was a moment later that Kasia Vard, still sitting at the window staring out into the court, searching desperately through her brain for some plan of escape, was brought quivering to her feet by a shrill scream, followed by the sound of a terrible struggle on the floor above. There was a heavy tramping to and fro, the thud of falling furniture, a dull crash that shook the house--and then silence. It was over in a moment, but she stood rigid for a moment longer, her hands against her heart, then she flew to the door and wrenched at the knob.

The door did not yield. Panting with excitement, she snatched up a chair and drove it with all her strength against the lower panel. The chair flew to pieces in her hands, but the door held firm. And then, as she looked about for another weapon, she heard the sound of a sliding bolt, the door swung open, and Pachmann entered. He looked at her and at the broken chair, and smiled slightly.

"I come to reassure you, Miss Vard," he said, "since I suppose you must have heard the noise of our little combat. No one was injured; but your father, after a burst of rage at finding himself in our hands, during which we found it most difficult to control him, has had what appears to be an epileptic seizure. Is he subject to epilepsy?"

"I have known him to have two attacks," said Kasia, in a low voice, with a shuddering remembrance of the desperate crisis at which each had come.

"There is nothing to be done, I think, except to loosen his clothing and bathe his head and wrists?"

"No--that is all." Mechanically her hands were smoothing her disordered hair.

"And there is, of course, no danger. Nevertheless, you may wish to go to him."

"I do wish it."

"Then come with me," and he led the way up the stair. "Your father is in there," he said, pointing to an inner room. "I will bring some water."

Kasia, with white face, passed into the inner room. Her father had been placed on a bed, and lay on his back, his eyes rolled up, breathing heavily. His hands were tightly clenched, but already the spasm was passing and the muscles relaxing. Almost at once, Pachmann appeared at the door, handed her a basin of water and then withdrew.

Under her ministrations, the breathing of the unconscious man grew softer and softer, the hands unclosed, the eyelids drooped, and finally his head fell over on one side and he slept. Kasia, watching him for a few moments, assured herself that all was well, then turned out the light, returned to the outer room and closed the door.

Pachmann was sitting at the window, staring idly out at the deepening shadows. He arose at once at the sound of her entrance.

"Miss Vard," he said, "there is something I wish to say to you. Will you not sit down?" and he placed a chair for her. "What I have to say is most serious, and whatever your feeling of ill-usage may be, I hope you will try to look at the matter also a little from my side. The situation is this: Your father, as you doubtless know, is the inventor of a mechanism which will make the nation possessing it mistress of the world. That nation must be Germany. Apart from my ambition for my country and my love of her, I believe that she is the nation best fitted to possess it. At any cost, it must be hers--no cost can be too great; a hundred lives, a thousand lives, millions of treasure--all these would be sacrificed gladly, without hesitation. You understand?"

"Yes," said Kasia. "I think I understand."

"It is your father's dream, as I suppose you also know," Pachmann continued, "to bring about a world-wide peace by causing all nations to strike hands together in a sort of universal brotherhood. He demands that, to enter this brotherhood, Germany relinquish her share of Poland and restore Elsass and Lorraine to France. He requires, too, the virtual abdication of our ruling house. To such conditions Germany cannot consent. Rather than that, we should prefer a hundred times the present status. For Germany has nothing to fear from the future.

"Now, Miss Vard, let me say at once that I regard your father's dream as a dream and nothing more. It cannot be realised. There is only one way in which world-peace can be secured--let your father consent to place this power in our hands, and there will be no more war--or, at most, only one very short and decisive war. If your father is in earnest, if he is not mad, he will consent to this proposal. I need hardly add that, if he does consent, he has only to name his own reward--Germany will pay it gladly. Wealth, position, the suzerainty of a nation--all this Germany is prepared to grant."

"You have placed this before him?" Kasia asked.

"Yes; it was placed before him at much greater length at our second conference."

"And he refused?"

"He refused; but we cannot take that refusal."

"Why do you tell me all this?"

"I tell you this, Miss Vard," answered Pachmann earnestly, "because I wish you to understand that in what may seem to you treachery and persecution, I am but fighting for my country. For her, I hesitate at nothing. Then, too, I wish you to know what our position is. If you will think of it, I believe you will find it an honourable position, and one which will bring peace to the world, and quickly. I hope that, after full consideration, you will decide to speak to your father. Perhaps to you he might listen."

"No, he would not listen," said Kasia, calmly; "and I shall not speak; or, if I do, it will be to urge him to continue to defy you. Do you imagine that any threat, any torture, could compel him to place the world at the mercy of your Kaiser? You do not know him, Mr. Pachmann."

"That is your final answer?" Pachmann asked.

"Yes."

He rose.

"Then I shall have to request you to return to the room below."

"One moment, Mr. Pachmann," said Kasia. "I wonder if you realise how dangerous is this game you are playing? You are not in Germany; you cannot kidnap two people here in New York, even by the Emperor's order, without some inquiry being made."

"Who will make it? No one knows that you were on the _Ottilie_; your room was empty, your names were not among the list of passengers; to all inquiries the reply will be made that you did not cross with the boat. No one knows that you are in New York."

"You are mistaken," retorted Kasia, her cheeks flushed. "One man knows. I am to meet him this evening."

"Ah! but when he finds you not at home, when he inquires of our company, he will conclude that you missed the boat."

"He will know better, because he crossed with us."

Pachmann stared at her, his brows contracted; then a slow smile broke across his lips.

"I remember now," he said. "I did, on one occasion, observe you talking to a young man. No doubt it is to him you refer."

"Yes--and he has a power at his disposal which even you may fear."

Pachmann chuckled.

"The power of the press, is it not?" he asked. "Be at rest, Miss Vard. He will not use it against us. He will walk into our net at seven o'clock this evening! You may be sure that now he will not be permitted to escape!"

In spite of herself, Kasia turned pale. Herself and her father she was prepared to sacrifice--they had played for a great stake and had been outwitted. But Dan! That he, too, should be drawn into the whirlpool and sucked down and destroyed! She turned faint at the thought. Then she pulled herself up sharply, for Pachmann's gimlet eyes were upon her, glittering with comprehension, reading her face, while on his own there was an expression of infernal triumph. She shivered as she looked at him.

"Have you anything else to say, Miss Vard?" he asked, with a leer.

"No," said Kasia, and turned to the door, anxious to hide her face, to escape from him, to be alone with her thoughts.

"Then please come with me."

She stepped first to the inner door and glanced at her father. He was sleeping peacefully. Then she followed Pachmann down the stair. At the door of her room he paused.

"By the way, Miss Vard," he said, still leering, "it is useless for you to fatigue yourself by endeavouring to break this door. It is strengthened on the outside by a sheet of steel--behold." He swung the door for her to see, then held it open for her. "I will have your dinner sent in to you," he added, and Kasia heard the bolts shot into place again.

Half an hour later, a bearded giant in livery brought in a tray containing a very appetizing meal, set it on the table, and retired. Kasia realised suddenly that she was very hungry, for she had had nothing to eat since breakfast. There was certainly nothing to be gained by starving herself--that, she told herself with a shiver, might come later!--so she washed hands and face at the basin in the bathroom, straightened her hair, and at last sat down to the meal with a calmness which surprised even herself. She ate deliberately and well, and when, at last, she pushed her cup away, it was with a sense of renewed strength and courage.

Once more she examined the room minutely, but there was no exit save by the steel-lined door. The windows remained, but they opened into that well-like court, with walls surmounted by bristling iron. Yet she was strong and agile; perhaps ... perhaps....

She snapped out the light, went to the open window and peered out. It was very dark in the shadow of those walls, but she remembered precisely how it looked; she remembered the door opening into the basement, just beneath the window. If it should, by any chance, be unlocked. But that was foolish to expect. Perhaps it would be possible to twist a rope from the bed-clothes and throw it up over the chevaux-de-frise; but even then there would be a long hand-over-hand climb to accomplish; and the barbed and pointed spikes had looked very formidable. In any event, she had the whole night before her; she must not act hastily; she must wait and watch; perhaps some other means would present itself; perhaps Dan....

And then the pain of recollection stabbed through her. Dan could do nothing; Dan was to be himself entrapped; and yet, how could that be? Perhaps Pachmann was lying--and yet he had not seemed to be lying. He had spoken confidently, triumphantly, gloatingly.

She sat erect, listening, then stole to the door and placed one ear against it. There were steps in the hall outside, steps which passed, which mounted the stair....

Perhaps that was Dan; yes, it must be after seven o'clock....

She forced herself to sit again at the window, but her hands were trembling. She stared out into the shadows of the little court and tried to think. But thinking was so difficult; there was a dull ache at the back of her eyes, and her throat felt dry and swollen. One thought ran through her mind, over and over: Dan must not be sacrificed, Dan must not suffer; even if Germany must triumph....

Then, suddenly, from overhead, came the sound of a sharp scuffle and a heavy fall. She fancied she could hear voices raised in anger. The slam of a door echoed through the house. A moment later came a series of savage blows, of rending crashes, as though the house itself was being torn to pieces;--and then silence.

Kasia stood as though turned to stone, listening, listening. Was it Dan? Was it her father? What was happening in that room upstairs? What did that sudden silence mean? Her imagination pictured frightful things....

And then, from overhead, she heard the pacing of swift feet, up and down, up and down; back and forth a hundred times, as though driven by some raging spirit, scourging, scourging. And then again silence.

Horrible as the sounds had been, the silence frightened her still more; it was filled with menace, it was charged with terror. Movement, sound--those meant life, at least; silence might mean anything--might mean death!

She could endure it no longer. She ran wildly into the other room and flung herself face-downward on the bed, covering her ears, burying her eyes in the pillow....

But the terror passed; and at last she rolled over and stared up into the darkness and tried again to think. She must, must, must escape! Once free, once in the street, she could summon aid, could raise the town, could storm the house! But to escape! She pressed her hands to her aching temples.

And then a sound from the outer room brought her upright; she listened with bated breath, pressing her hands against her breast to still the beating of her heart. There it was again, stealthy, scraping....

Slowly, cautiously, she stole to the door of the bedroom; the noise again; and the sound of heavy breathing. And then her heart leaped suffocatingly; for there against the grey light of the window was silhouetted the figure of a man. In frantic terror, she sprang for the switch, found it after an instant's frenzied groping, and turned on the lights. The sudden flare blinded her; then her straining eyes saw who stood there.

"Dan!" she cried. "Dan!"

He was standing on the window-sill, steadying himself by a knotted sheet secured somewhere overhead; and at the sound of her voice, he reeled and nearly fell. Then, with a face like ivory, he stooped and peered in under the raised sash, rubbed his eyes, looked a second time, and with a low cry, sprang into the room.

"Kasia!"

She was in his arms, close, oh! close to his heart.

"Oh, Dan, Dan!" she sobbed. "I'm so glad--so glad!"

And she kissed him with trembling lips.