Traitor's Doom Read online

  They did stop, and the key did turn.

  He saw guards outside, with van Hoysen between them; the American was thrust in as he had been. Then Brian appeared, and entered more steadily, of his own volition. The door was closed on them, and locked.

  Palfrey stood up from the corner of the table and lent van Hoysen a steadying hand.

  Somewhere outside there came the bark of a voice, followed by a rattle of rifle-fire.

  It startled them both.

  Brian half-turned towards the door, and Palfrey stepped towards it. There was a pause, and then another bark, followed by a second fusillade. The crashing of the shots echoed about the cell and the passages and rooms beyond. At first the full implications of the shooting did not occur to them. From Brian’s expression it was clear that he jumped to the conclusion that there was an attack on the Guarda, but as he looked at Palfrey’s face the eager light died from his eyes.

  More orders were given, and a third crash of shots followed. A groan came from outside, and a gasp of pain. Then a man began to cry for mercy, but was silenced by a single shot.

  After a long pause, Palfrey glanced towards the top of the wall from which the sound appeared to be coming. He was in time to see a glow of yellow light through a grid, but the light disappeared suddenly, and there was the sharp sound of a closing door.

  Another long pause, and then Palfrey said: ‘So they opened that for our benefit. Let that be a lesson to us.’ His words were at strange variance with his slow, hoarse voice. ‘Shooting gallery next door, and they’re not hard up for targets.’ He brushed back his thin hair and peered at Brian, whose face was set expressionlessly.

  ‘I’m getting tired of saying “isn’t there something we can do?”’ said Brian slowly.

  ‘While there’s life there’s hope,’ said Palfrey, and smiled twistedly. ‘Old saw, but as true as when someone first thought of it. For some reason Silverra doesn’t want us killed yet, and I don’t think we have to look far for the reason.’

  ‘He thinks we might give Fonesca away,’ said Brian. ‘So that’s what he tried to find out from you and Clem?’ asked Palfrey, glancing down at the American, who sat upright with his head resting against the wall. ‘Ye-es, Silverra wants to know that, but I don’t think it would stop him from putting us in front of a firing squad. We can thank our stars we’re English.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked Brian.

  ‘While the revolution’s in its early stages they won’t want to be in open conflict with Allied Governments,’ said Palfrey. ‘On the surface everything will want to look well. If they fail, they won’t want to have to answer for killing Allied Nationals, so the policy is “go slow”. Only a little slower than they have to,’ added Palfrey, ‘but I think they’ll stop short at killing, yet. That’s why I tried Silverra out.’

  ‘Palfrey,’ interpolated van Hoysen from the floor, ‘when I first had a look at you I thought you were next door to dumb! Are you telling me you put up your act to see how far the General would go?’

  ‘W-ell,’ said Palfrey, ‘yes, but it’s not quite so simple as that. I didn’t behave that he’d kill us outright. Something in being English after all.’ He smiled. ‘How’s your head?’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to come within a mile of it!’ exclaimed van Hoysen hastily. ‘Right now it’s going round in gentle revolutions, but a touch of your hand, doc, and it’ll start gyrating more than I can stand. I could use a cigarette,’ he added, and Brian lighted one and handed it to him.

  By then all of them were hungry, and began to talk about it. Palfrey was of the opinion that they could get food of a sort, and was saying so when they heard footsteps in the passage. ‘I reckon this will be our breakfast,’ said van Hoysen. The key turned in the lock and the door opened, but the guards outside did not bring in their breakfast; instead they pushed another man in to join them. He stumbled and would have fallen but for Brian’s helping hand, and consequently Brian was the first to recognise him. ‘Bombarda!’ he exclaimed.

  It was clear that the Social Patriot leader had been manhandled, but there was no evidence that he had been brutally treated. His face looked very pale in the dim blue light, and his eyes glittered.

  He seemed too dazed to speak until Brian led him to the palliasses and helped him to sit down. Then recognition showed in his eyes, and he said wearily: ‘Thank you, señor. So you also are here?’

  ‘For a while,’ said Brian with forced cheerfulness. ‘For a while?’ Bombarda stared at him expressionlessly, and then shrugged his shoulders. ‘You have courage, my friend. I should not like to think that I had a chance of escape from here, the cruelty of disappointment would be too great.’

  ‘We might have a chance, Bombarda, although we’re not relying on it. But I thought …’ Palfrey hesitated, and amended: I hoped that you were quite safe.’

  ‘Safe!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘No one is safe, all of us are betrayed! If only I knew who the betrayer was, if I could have just one little minute alone with him, I would make him suffer as he has made others suffer, hundreds of others! Throughout the country, what is happening? What is happening?’

  He jumped to his feet and strode about the room, his face working, a fierce, nervous energy in him. If the hearts of Brian and Palfrey went like stone when he talked of the betrayal, they said nothing to interrupt as Bombarda went on: ‘Throughout the land there were members of the Party, the faithful who would support Fonesca through every tribulation. Most of them were unknown to the authorities as I was unknown. None suspected them, or so we thought! And what happens now? In the darkness of the night they have been torn from their homes and thrown into prison, or what is worse—thrown in the foul pits where the Guarda shoots them. Listen!’ His voice rose to a scream, he advanced on Palfrey with his right forefinger pointing towards him and quivering. ‘Today they took me to a room not far from here, a foul dank chamber with the river running through one side. By the edge of the river they stood my friends, my dear, good men! They shot them without mercy and without trial, they shot them and watched them fall into the dark waters which carried their bodies away. Death is everywhere, this is a cavern of death, and—’

  He stopped abruptly. The high, shrill note faded from his voice and he went on softly, even sibilantly, making his words far more impressive, holding the others still in a chill of horror reflected in the pallid face and shaking body.

  ‘Our great leader was missing, but we found him and you saved him, Señor Palfrey.’ He looked at Palfrey hopelessly. ‘Why did we save him? To see the death of his disciples and his friends? Just for that?’

  ‘He is safe,’ said Palfrey quietly.

  ‘God be praised!’ exclaimed Bombarda, jumping to his feet. ‘While there is José Fonesca there is hope! Where is he, Palfrey? Where did he go?’

  ‘We can’t tell you,’ Palfrey insisted. ‘We’ve no idea, except that he did get away.’

  ‘If I knew where he was it would strengthen my hope,’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘Perhaps even now there is a chance that the Guarda will be overcome. If José Fonesca can talk to your leaders they will surely send all the help we shall require, to them it is but a trifle. How much help has been arranged, señor?’

  Palfrey said, parrot-like, ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘But that is absurd!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘You must know how many ships and how many men you have detailed to send to Catania if there should be need of it.’

  ‘We don’t even know that it is being prepared,’ said Palfrey quietly.

  ‘It is absurd! It is—but no matter, I must believe you.’ Bombarda hesitated, then added abruptly: ‘But I begin to wonder whether that help we were promised is at hand, I begin to wonder whether we have not been maintained by false promises. Would your Government do that?’ Palfrey drew a deep breath.

  ‘It isn’t likely, but it isn’t likely either that it
would take risks with an outlawed party in a neutral country.’

  ‘Oh, the English!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘Always the same, always the same! Friendly and smiling, but when it comes to action, nothing. But it will not avail you!’ he added sharply. ‘Better you had a thousand ships and a million men off the coast of Catania, for the Guarda wishes for war. It is on the side of Germany and Italy, and soon will declare war, but it needs provocation. It has prepared a story of how much help is being sent to the Social Patriots for the fight. Aeroplanes, bombers, arms, ammunition, men—ships! And more than that. There have been bomb outrages today throughout the country, and British bombs have been used.’ That’s absurd!’ exclaimed Brian.

  ‘Absurd?’ Bombarda swung round on him. ‘What are you, señor, a fool? Bombs captured from Libya, from Greece, from France and from Crete, arms and ammunition, too, that will be found in great quantities. It will be used, then offered as proof that you were ready to begin the revolution. It is not all the fault of Catania, nor of the traitors. The blockade, señors, has made our people hungry, and the ears of hungry people are always open to hear lies from those who promise to feed them.’ Palfrey said: ‘About these bombs—are you sure they are English?’

  ‘That man Silverra!’ exclaimed Bombarda. ‘He showed me splinters from them, señor. Oh, it is a cunning plan.’

  They lapsed into a silence which was heavy and disquieting. How long it would have been before any of them spoke Palfrey did not know, but a disturbance came from the outside. Their jailors came, with two tin trays, weak coffee and dry bread. It was pushed in carelessly, and then the jailors went out, locking the door again.

  For some minutes the four men stared at the food, and then van Hoysen said: ‘Who’s the Solomon to divide that banquet? Palfrey, I guess you’re good with a knife.’

  Palfrey smiled, and divided the bread into four. At least it was a comforting thought that they were to have food.

  The day dragged wearisomely.

  No more food or drink was brought to them until six o’clock, and by then they had explored every inch of the cell, finding only the one ventilation hole above the door, and also the hole which led to the trap-door through which they had heard the sounds of the firing squad. Neither hole was large enough for even van Hoysen to get through.

  They could just hear the lapping of the water from the further chamber, where the shooting had taken place. None of them talked of it, but Palfrey imagined that all of them were thinking that if they could get into the room and reach the river there was a chance that they could swim to safety, for the river must have an outlet not far away.

  Soon after six their jailors came again.

  With no idea of the purpose of the visit, they waited breathlessly while the key turned in the lock, and saw three guards standing outside, as well as the man who entered, a big, thin-moustached fellow who looked from one to another insolently, and then barked:

  ‘Bombarda, you!’

  Bombarda gasped. For a moment he sat quite still on a palliasse; then he stood up slowly, and approached the door. At it he turned to the others, and bowed.

  ‘Adios, señors,’ he said very softly. ‘Perhaps after all I am right, and the cause will live.’

  The door clanged, the key scraped.

  Palfrey looked at the others silently.

  In their minds was the thought expressed by Bombarda: obviously he expected to go to his death. They sat without speaking until a scraping sound above their heads attracted them, and a glow of yellow light appeared. They stared upwards as sounds travelled through – the tramp of marching feet, barked orders, the movements of guns. There was a tense moment as they waited, and then the guns crashed out.

  A faint smell of cordite smoke seeped into the cell.

  The light went out, and this time the trap-door was not closed, but none of them thought of the chances that offered, they were thinking only of Bombarda and the grave, proud dignity with which he had left them.

  Then a fresh sound came.

  It brought Palfrey to his feet and an exclamation from Brian’s lips. Van Hoysen stared at them in surprise as they jumped towards the wall, while from above their heads came a chattering noise like badly played castanets. Then they saw a little grey shape squatting in the hole and peering down at them, its chattering stopped. ‘The monkey!’ exclaimed Brian.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  No Escape by the River

  Palfrey stood to his full height, with a hand outstretched to attract the little creature’s attention. Brian joined him. The monkey jumped away, receding into the hole and chattering fiercely. It came out again after a pause, and Palfrey said quietly: ‘It’s the same little fellow.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said van Hoysen in a fierce whisper. ‘Now what about taking a look out of that hole and seeing what there is around here? If you like to stay and play around with your monkey, that’s okay by me, but—’

  He was interrupted by a fierce chattering from the monkey, which jumped down and landed on van Hoysen’s shoulder. Van Hoysen started, and stepped quickly to one side. The monkey maintained its fierce chattering and went sniffing about the room. It scratched at the door, then turned and went to the wall again, making frantic efforts to leap up.

  ‘All right, old son,’ said Palfrey gently. ‘It’s not your fault, is it?’ He lifted the creature to the ventilator, and it went chattering through, then jumped to the other side.

  ‘Well, I’m for following the monkey’s example,’ said van Hoysen. ‘Have a look at those bricks, Debenham, you’re the only one here with the height. Pull that table up to the wall.’

  ‘Steady,’ said Palfrey. ‘We don’t want to do anything while the light’s on.’

  ‘Why not?’ demanded van Hoysen sharply.

  ‘Because they’re probably watching and waiting for us,’ said Palfrey. ‘If I’m to be shot while attempting to escape I’d like to get part of the way, anyhow.’ He smiled a little. ‘The trap was left open as an invitation, Clem.’

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ said van Hoysen slowly. ‘I’m not so sure that it’s a time for all that caution.’

  Palfrey shrugged.

  ‘Please yourself, but be careful when you get up there.’

  The American climbed up with Brian’s help.

  Slowly he inserted his head into the ventilation gap. It made the room darker, for he hid most of the light.

  He said nothing, and the others kept very still.

  After a while he withdrew his head, turned and climbed down. His face was twisted as he spoke.

  ‘The river’s there all right, I guess, and I can see where the poor palookas have been shot. The brickwork doesn’t seem as good as it might be, either. Where’s your knife, doc?’

  ‘Now look here,’ said Palfrey, ‘you’re being too hasty. Wait until it’s dark.’

  ‘Maybe they left that light on to make us think we were being watched,’ said van Hoysen. ‘Be yourself, doc; you can’t stop me trying, so why not make it easy? If I don’t get a breath of clean air soon I’ll be dying of suffocation, so what difference does it make?’

  Reluctantly Palfrey handed him the knife.

  Brian helped him to the table again, and van Hoysen put his hand inside the ventilation hole. After a few seconds they heard the scraping sound of the knife against the mortar.

  ‘It’s powdering fine, partners.’ He rubbed his wrist, aching with the unaccustomed movement, and then put his head through the opening again.

  A shot broke the silence.

  Loud and clear, it made the two men in the cell jump, made Palfrey’s heart beat fast. There was another shot, and then van Hoysen reared backwards, falling from the table and saved from hitting the floor only by Brian, who jumped forward. Something splashed on Brian’s face and hands, and van Hoysen remained a dead weight against him.
Palfrey joined him and helped to lower the American.

  There was a hole in the centre of his forehead, drilled clean by the bullet. It was bleeding slightly. Van Hoysen’s eyes were half-open, and there was a hint of surprise in his expression. His face was set, his lips were parted.

  In the death that had come to him so quickly there seemed to be saturnine, almost mocking warning.

  They lowered him to one of the palliasses, and Brian stared down at the set face. Palfrey turned away quietly, and thrust both his hands into his pockets. It seemed that the echoes of the shooting were only then in the room, and they imagined that they heard whispering voices and the chattering of the little monkey.

  Brian covered the American’s face with a handkerchief, then turned away.

  The cell had been silent before, but a greater silence, a hush of death, was in it then. Neither man spoke, neither moved. They sat side by side, looking towards the door. Brian’s cheeks were moving as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Palfrey closed his eyes, and sat back against the wall.

  An hour passed.

  Palfrey opened his eyes, turned, and saw Brian still staring towards the door.

  ‘We’d better try to get some sleep,’ he said. ‘If we lie full length we’ll be more rested, anyhow.’ He stood up, and between them they dragged the palliasses away from van Hoysen’s body, then stretched down on them.

  It was a merciful slumber, and they did not stir in it.

  They did not awaken until the door was flung open, and two men came in, carrying a stretcher. No word was spoken to Palfrey or Brian, but van Hoysen was put on to the stretcher and the men went out.

  After a while, Brian said gruffly: ‘Well, Sap. Being American didn’t help him. Being English won’t help us. If only he’d listened to you!’

  ‘He wanted to get it over,’ said Palfrey. ‘He was too impatient, Brian; but probably he thought that it wasn’t a thing to wait for.’

  Brian shrugged his shoulders and then turned restlessly towards Palfrey, hesitated, and said hesitantly: ‘I’d give a lot to know if José and Stefan did get away.’