Tom Willoughby's Scouts Part 9

"At sunset, as I thought," said Tom to himself. "Then we have about two hours."

An hour later the second contingent of the people left, well loaded up.

Tom locked the gate behind them, then set forty men whom he had retained to remove all litter and other traces of the exodus from that portion of the road which must be traversed in approaching the bungalow. This done, he gave rifles and a round or two of ammunition to twenty of the men, and ordered the other twenty to arm themselves with implements of their daily work. It still wanted half an hour of sunset. Tom allowed the men twenty minutes to make a good meal; then he divided each band, posting ten riflemen and ten of the others in the bushes near the gate, and the rest under cover in the grounds of the bungalow, where they commanded the open s.p.a.ce in front of the entrance. This last disposition was made very stealthily, in order to avoid attracting the attention of the household servants, who, however, were busy in their outbuildings at the back, making final preparations for their master's dinner.

Having given his men their orders, Tom entered the bungalow, clapped his hands for one of the servants, asked him if dinner was ready, and reminded him that Herr Reinecke always liked a drink as soon as he returned home.

"Take it to the dining-room," he said, "and one for me too."

He then went into the room Reinecke used as an office, opened a drawer in which there was usually kept a revolver, a.s.sured himself that it was loaded, and taking it to the dining-room, slipped it half underneath the edge of a wide fruit dish. The servant brought in two large tumblers of a claret-cup of Reinecke's invention. Tom drank his off, then sat down and helped himself to a confection of rice and fruit. But now that the critical moment was approaching he found himself without appet.i.te. To steady his nerves he lit a cigarette, and changed his position slightly, so that he had a good view through the window of the approach to the bungalow.

Tom was smoking his fourth cigarette, and the brief twilight of Equatorial Africa was already half spent, when he heard the tramp of marching men, and saw the expected party filing into the grounds of the bungalow. First came two askaris, then Reinecke and a native N.C.O., then a number of porters with bales on their heads, finally a dozen askaris. Reinecke was in uniform--white helmet and tunic, khaki breeches, and leggings.

The number of askaris was greater than Tom had looked for. He noticed that the hand that held his cigarette was trembling a little, drew a long breath, and waited. The atmosphere seemed to be highly electric.

Reinecke ordered the askaris to halt and ground arms, the porters to lay down their loads. Then he called for Selim and Sergeant Morgenstein, who ought to have been awaiting him, and cursed them volubly in German.

He shouted a few words in Bantu to the native corporal, and strode into the bungalow. He was evidently in a bad temper.

Turning into the dining-room he gasped and started back. Tom dropped his cigarette into the ash-tray, laid his hand near the b.u.t.t of the revolver on the table, and, smiling grimly, said--

"No. I'm not a ghost, Herr Reinecke--nor a skeleton."

Reinecke, standing in the doorway, had quickly recovered himself.

"So!" he laughed. "But it is clear: you are a fool."

"I _was_ a fool--to trust you," said Tom, standing up.

"You _are_ a fool--to come back here," said Reinecke, with another laugh. He advanced a step into the room and laid his helmet on a chair.

"That's as may be. You will consider yourself my prisoner, Herr Reinecke."

The German stared, then with a derisive guffaw, cried--

"Your prisoner? Are you a madman as well as a fool? Ha! ha!--your prisoner! We are at war: yes, you realise it. But _your_ prisoner!

Why, you foolish child, don't you realise that you are _my_ prisoner?--that I can have you shot as a spy?--that that is exactly what I shall do?"

"We seem to be talking at cross purposes." Tom grasped his revolver, and with a quick movement pointed it at the German's head. "Not a word,"

he added swiftly, as Reinecke, after a moment's paralysing astonishment, was turning towards the door, and at the same time fumbling for the revolver slung across his shoulder. "Understand: if you call out, or make a single suspicious movement--drop your hands, sir--I shall fire, and if I fire it will be a signal to my men who are waiting to settle accounts with your askaris. Take off your pistol strap: lay it on the table: your left hand, please: be careful not to touch the b.u.t.ton."

Reinecke, taken all aback--what did the Englishman mean by "my men"?--removed his strap and laid it on the corner of the table Tom pointed to.

"Now your sword-belt."

The German obeyed.

A servant came through the inner door carrying dishes.

"Not yet," said Tom: "we are not quite ready."

The servant smiled, started as he saw the revolver in Tom's hand, then backed hurriedly.

"Remain in the kitchen till I call," added Tom. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you will precede me--I am not bluffing--to the place where my men are hidden. I don't wish to kill your askaris, but any madness on your part will provoke a volley from my men. It will avoid trouble, then, if you order yours to pile arms. Remember this revolver. If you make a mistake in the word of command it will be fatal to you as to them. Lead on."

The German turned without a word. Outside, the askaris were standing at ease: Yakoub, the native clerk, had just finished checking off the porter's loads. Reinecke ordered the askaris, in a voice unlike his own, to pile arms and rea.s.semble two deep. At Tom's bidding he told Yakoub to go to his hut and remain there. A call from Tom brought Mwesa bounding from behind a shrub.

"Get the men to collect these arms," said Tom.

The negroes came from their hiding place and seized upon the askaris'

rifles. The amazed porters, standing by their loads, broke out into eager questioning, and the replies set them shouting, laughing, leaping with glee. The askaris, equally astonished, looked in a puzzled way from Reinecke to Tom, and made no resistance when the Wahehe were ordered to tie their hands behind their backs. Reinecke, standing within a yard of Tom, gnawed his moustache in impotent rage.

"Keep these men under guard," said Tom, and Mwesa summoned forth the concealed riflemen. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you shall have your dinner.

Make the most of it. It will be a long time before you get such a meal again."

CHAPTER IX--A DELAYING ACTION

Damocles, at the sumptuous banquet of Dionysius of Syracuse, no doubt ate with a very good appet.i.te, for Dionysius was his friend, and the sword hanging over his head at the end of a single hair was merely a playful ill.u.s.tration of the insecurity of princes, and no object of fear. It may be supposed that the Greek, sitting within reach of the weapon held by a resolute hand, would have found the dishes offered him savourless, or his throat perhaps too dry for degustation. Curt Reinecke, however, was a German. He flashed one evil look at the tall, grim young man who sat, grasping a revolver, across the corner of a table opposite; then he bent his eyes upon his plate, and applied himself with customary ardour to the appeas.e.m.e.nt of nature's cravings.

The servant went to and fro, silent, scared.

"Get ready to come with me, Mirami--you and the rest," said Tom when the man had brought coffee. "Light all the lanterns you have."

Reinecke had not spoken during the meal, complete _ab ovo usque ad mala_. Now, however, having gulped down his coffee, and the liqueur which the admirable Mirami served as usual, though with shaking hand, he cleared his throat and hesitatingly put a question.

"Where are you--are we--going?"

"That you will see."

The German, primed to attempt a parley, sat back in his chair, and said, in the manner of one appealing to good sense:

"The frontier is closed. It would be madness to attempt to cross the Neu Langenburg road."

"You might be shot by your own countrymen, you mean?"

"What I mean," rejoined Reinecke, generously ignoring the insinuation, "is that you are playing a fool's game. You have the whip hand now; you have, I suppose, raised a mutiny among my people----"

"Our people, they used to be: they are mine now."

"Ach! what folly it is!" said Reinecke, with a gesture of impatience.

"You are in German country; within a few miles there are hundreds of well-trained troops; are you mad enough to think that these raw blacks, who hardly know one end of a rifle from the other, can reach British territory? It is impossible--impossible."

"Well?"

"Then why attempt the impossible? Look at the matter reasonably, calmly."

"I don't think I am agitated, Herr Reinecke. But go on."