The Secret of the Silver Car Part 34

Then the door was locked and he was a prisoner. When, a minute later his master and the others came bursting through he supposed them to be other than they were and hid under a bed where the redoubtable Sissek pursued him and beat him soundly until his ident.i.ty was established.

Leaving him in the room Trent made his way carefully to the _armoire_, that rock of refuge in a weary land, and entered it noiselessly.

It was established that no stranger could have left the castle by any of its exits. Such as were not barred had servants near them. It was clear that Alfred Anthony was concealed somewhere in the vast building. His capture was only the matter of time, the result of careful searching.

This search was gone about systematically Count Michael directing his men personally. It was the count's theory that one of his bullets, the first shot at which Hentzi had screamed because of its nearness to his head, had wounded the fleeing man, and that he would sooner or later be traced by a trail of blood.

Hardly had plans been made for the disposition of the searchers than an agitated footman reported Peter Sissek's wife with dire news. She was brought before her employer trembling with excitement.

"Excellency," she cried, "He has escaped in the English car."

Pauline at the count's side clutched his arm.

"Thank G.o.d!" she breathed.

"They shall suffer who let him pa.s.s," the count roared, "Swine, children of swine, sp.a.w.n of the devil."

"Let me go after him Excellency," Peter Sissek pleaded. "I will bring him back to you dead or alive as you command."

"Fool," the count shouted, "Who are you to do this, you who have not his skill nor so fast a car! Get you to Agram. I will telegraph to Fiume and Zara and Trieste and have him stopped for a thief."

"But," Pauline protested, "how dare you let it be known that it is the paper he has stolen? Dare you invite notice of it?"

The count looked at her very oddly. Never had he looked so coldly.

"Is it also his car?" he asked. "Have I no right to that?"

Weeks before Anthony Trent had hidden a spare key to the garage in a secret place. From the moment of closing the door of the _armoire_ behind him, climbing down the copper pipe and starting his engine, Anthony Trent had not consumed more than four minutes. As he drove it out of the yard he saw Mrs. Sissek running toward him. Soon they would be on his track again. He did not care. He knew there was never a driver in all Europe who could hope to catch him between Castle Radna and Fiume.

A quick glance had a.s.sured him all was well with his Lion. Two extra wheels were carried which could be put on in three minutes. There was gasoline in his tanks and the purring hum of the motor was like a Beethoven symphony to his ears. And he knew that somewhere in the toolbox was concealed the little sc.r.a.p of paper which had cost two lives already and might take his own as toll were he not careful. He prayed that the G.o.ds of chance might give him no less than an even break.

Down the mountain side he went singing. At night there was little or no traffic. The peasants were early abed and the way would be deserted until he struck the Marie Louise road.

Anthony Trent knew that not a car in the garage would pursue him with any chance of success. They would probably send a telegram from Agram but that contingency did not worry him very much. It had taken no more than a minute of his time to do damage that would take a hundred times as long to remedy. He smiled to think of the savage Sissek trying to start his Panhard. Then they would attempt to get the Fiat going and finally, the old and tricky Mercedes. And they would all balk because that skilled mechanic Alfred Anthony had had his finger in the pie.

At the roar of his engines, magnified in the night silences, peasants turned over and went to sleep again. It was their lord or one of his exalted guests who pa.s.sed. Sometimes one of them would hear, floating out for a moment, the sound of his singing.

It was a night of triumph and hope for Anthony Trent. He had succeeded where others had failed. The hours brought him nearer to a sight of the woman he loved and he could not put away from him the hope that somewhere happiness and content might wait for them.

There was not an untoward incident in his journey until he reached the high land overlooking the harbor of Fiume. Day would break in less than an hour. Stopping his motor he took the rain stained doc.u.ment from its shelter. Pauline had not failed him. She showed her thoughtfulness by placing sandwiches and a flask of wine in the tool box. He thought of her with a flood of grat.i.tude. Until this reminder he had forgotten her very existence in the thought of the other woman.

Trent had not come idly to Fiume with the bare hope of being able to make his escape. He knew that there were in port several British destroyers that lay off a certain breakwater which he had observed on many occasions. Tied up at this stone pier were a number of rowboats. It would be an easy task to pull off to a destroyer and climb aboard. No commander would deny him the privilege he sought and there was not a gun in Fiume which dare be trained on a British or American vessel.

It was Anthony Trent's way to look for opposition in his ventures and be a little uneasy if he met none. So far things had gone almost too smoothly.

He had threaded his way through the narrow streets of Fiume without other than a few laborers when he was suddenly halted by a policeman.

The policeman stood before the Lion and waved his sword. It was plain he labored under stress of great excitement. Three others of his kind came running from a side alley. It seemed to the policeman that the great automobile made a vicious jump at him. He leapt aside with marvelous agility as the accelerated Lion pa.s.sed him on its way to the pier.

There was just sufficient light for Trent to see the destroyer lying at her anchorage. Everything would have been comfortably done but for the cries of the pursuing police.

A groom of Count Michael's had ridden a fast horse into Agram and the Fiume authorities were bidden apprehend a thieving chauffeur driving a blue and silver Lion. There was so liberal a reward that the police force was almost disorganized in contemplating it. Pursuers among civilian laborers and sailors joined in the chase.

Trent's heart sank to see the little cove where the boats were tied was not empty at this early hour as he expected. There was a group of seven or eight fishermen getting their nets ready. Their quick ears caught sounds of the disturbance and saw that the man in the motor was to be caught. They seized a two inch hawser and stood across the pier barring the motor's way. Four men holding to one end and three, to another.

Trent took the situation in at a glance. Stupidly enough the fishermen supposed themselves to be able to stop the car of their own strength.

Had they fastened the hawser around the cleats at their side Anthony Trent would have gone down to defeat. It was plain that he could not carry out his plan of rowing to the destroyer with these men at his heels.

There was one last desperate thing to do.

The great car responded to the accelerator and by the time it had reached the men holding the rope it was going at fifty miles an hour over the smooth stone breakwater. Two of the men were jerked clear into the water. They were all thrown down and one had an arm broken.

Fascinated they watched the great car racing down the pier straight to destruction as they supposed. Then they looked, horrified, as it seemed to hurl itself from the jetty, hurtle through the air and disappear in a tomb of foam.

When police and fishermen strained their eyes and could see no trace of the chauffeur they naturally a.s.sumed he had been caught in the car.

"He has killed himself!" the sergeant cried.

"He was mad!" said another.

Anthony Trent had no difficulty in freeing himself from the sinking Lion. It was his wish to swim under water as far as possible and so elude those who watched for him in the faint light.

There was a strong current running and the destroyer lay a couple of cable lengths distant. It was a hard swim, clothes enc.u.mbered as he was, and he dare not discard the garment that held the paper. There was a despairing moment when he thought he could never make headway against the tide which would take him back into the harbor.

It was an astonished marine who saw the dripping exhausted man clamber aboard and fall to the deck.

"I must see your commander at once," Trent cried, when his breathing was easier.

Lieutenant Maitland awaked from his sleep was not inclined to see him.

"What's he like and the devil is it all about?" he demanded crossly.

"He's about knocked out," the marine answered, "and he says he won't tell his business to anyone but you."

Lieutenant Maitland put on a bath robe and interviewed the stranger. He was instantly taken by the man's face and manner. He saw, too that he was dealing with one of his own cla.s.s.

"I have important despatches for Lord Rosecarrel the Foreign Secretary which I must get to him at once."

"Yes?" Maitland said interrogatively.

"I want you to take them and me," Anthony Trent said.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," said the officer. "You see that is a little out of my beat. Even if your papers were for the First Lord of the Admiralty I could not proceed to a home port without instructions.

I am bound for Malta and weigh anchor in a little while."

Anthony Trent was silent for a moment. He knew that private matters concerning Lord Rosecarrel and his son had nothing to do with the government directly. He knew, too, that to commandeer a destroyer for a private errand was inadmissable. But he was determined to get back and had no appet.i.te for Fiume. There was a trump card which he had yet to play.

"Why does a squadron of destroyers stay so long in Fiume?" he asked.