Vintage Love (53 page)

“A ten-minute walk. Perhaps a little more on a dark, cold night like this.”

She put on her cloak and drew the hood over her long blonde hair. “I’ll keep close to you in case we meet up with thieves.”

“The area between here and there is filled with predators of the night, and we must take great care to elude them.” Gustav tossed a flowing crimson cloak over his shoulders, amply concealing the sword beneath it. His wide-brimmed hat with its feather of gray might have belonged to any young merchant out on the town for the night.

“I shall share the danger with you,” Enid said firmly. “It is only right.”

Gustav smiled at her. “You’re a game little creature! I’ll play the role of a merchant who’s slightly fuddled with wine, and you’ll be the wench I picked up in the tavern!”

Susie continued to protest. “This is not a children’s game! How can you be so foolhardy?”

Gustav embraced his wife. “I take few risks. I remain here in London rather than travel to France because of you. I must do what I can for Count Armand. Otherwise I would feel I had to give up the work altogether.”

“Perhaps you should do that,” Susie said tearfully. “You owe France nothing. This is your country now!”

“No matter,” he told her. “I cannot stand by and see such grave injustices carried out.” He moved to the door.

Enid hastily kissed her friend on the cheek and whispered, “Do not worry—I shall protect him!” This was a bluff to make Susie feel less apprehensive, but at the same time it helped bolster her own courage.

Enid followed Gustav down the stairs and clung to his arm as they emerged into the fog-ridden night. The few people they encountered along the narrow back streets and mean alleys were either wandering drunks or elusive night denizens searching for likely prey.

Once they passed a girl huddled in a dark doorway. She came out with a querulous “Looking for a good time, sir?” and then when she saw Enid, she moved silently back into the shadows.

A sailor singing loudly and off-key staggered by and uttered some silly compliment to them. After he had disappeared, they passed another man, silent and sinister, who eyed them warily.

To quell her nervousness, Enid began to speak softly to Gustav. “You mentioned this man Louis Esmond, an agent of the revolutionists. What does he look like? I should at least have a description of him.”

“He’s past middle age,” Gustav said, ambling in a tipsy fashion along the dark lane. “He is totally bald and doesn’t wear a wig.”

“That alone should make him easy to spot.”

“Also, he wears a black eye patch over his left eye. He served in the army long ago and was badly injured. He walks with a slight limp.”

“He sounds more like an invalid than a dangerous foe.”

“Do not underestimate him,” Gustav warned her. “He is one of the true mad dogs of the revolution. He hates the nobility because he blames his injuries on an officer of noble blood who was in command of his regiment. Also, he is drunk with power and aiming for a top post in the tribunal of the revolutionists.”

“The more I hear, the more I fear him!”

“Be sure that you do.” Gustav’s voice was tense. “To be alarmed is to be prepared. And about the pistol—use it only if you must.”

“Please explain.”

“It will make a noise, not a loud one, but enough to warn our opponents. Let me try to settle things with my sword. Use the pistol only as a last resort.”

“I wish I had a sword,” Enid complained. “I would be able to use it well!”

“I know that, but it wouldn’t be seemly for a woman to be wandering about the streets with a sword!”

“It isn’t seemly for me to be out on such a night and at such an hour either,” she pointed out.

“Blame that on your romance with Count Armand, not on me,” he countered.

She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not concerned about where to place the blame. I only wish to help Armand.”

At that point a watchman of the night strode by, ringing a bell and crying out in melancholy tones, “Eleven o’clock and all is well!” He kept repeating this as he moved away from them, his words echoing in their ears.

All at once Gustav came to a halt and whispered, “The large building directly ahead is the warehouse.”

Enid peered through the yellowish fog and made out a dark, two-story structure. “What now?” she asked.

“We must be very careful. It fronts on the dock, where the main entrance is.”

“And?”

“We dare not try that,” he told her. “We must seek out a window or door on this side of the building through which we can make our entry. If I find a suitable place, I shall have you stand guard outside it.”

“Where do you think they may have hidden him?”

“Probably on the upper floor. That would give them a better chance to defend their position in case of attack.”

“So shall we go on?”

“Yes,” he said. “All seems quiet thus far.”

He moved cautiously toward the warehouse and then inched his way alongside it, checking the windows in the hope of finding an open one. Enid silently matched his steps, her heart beating faster, her nerves stretched taut. And then she experienced a thrill of fear as she heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep behind her. She had barely enough time to whisper the single word “Danger!”

Gustav whirled around, his sword drawn and ready beneath his flowing cloak. And not a moment too soon, either, as two men, also armed with swords, sprang out of the darkness at them. Enid cringed against the brick wall of the warehouse and watched her companion bravely defend himself against the accomplished pair.

The clash of metal filled the silent air as blades locked, and locked again. Gustav was a master swordsman, and despite the odds against him, he managed to keep the two attackers at bay. They cursed in French and lunged at him fiercely, yet each time, by some miracle, he was able to withdraw and then return to the fray.

Enid held the pistol outside her cloak now, ready to use it if the struggle clearly went against Gustav. And with each passing it seemed as if it would. But he had warned her not to fire the weapon unless it was absolutely necessary.

The three men parried back and forth in the fog. Once Gustav fell to one knee, but even in that endangered position he held off his opponents. Moments later he found an opening in the defense of one of the men and plunged his blade into him. The man cried out and stumbled backward as Gustav freed his sword to fight off the second attacker. The wounded man fell face downward on the cobblestones, his own weapon clattering as it rolled from his limp hand.

Enid seized this moment to rush forward and retrieve the sword, as well as one of his pistols. Then, with a purposeful look on her lovely face, she gave her attention to helping Gustav, who had almost lost his weapon to his opponent and had staggered slightly as he fought to regain his balance. Enid was certain the second man was about to finish her friend, so she lunged forward and thrust the sword deep into his side.

The bearded man turned to her, his face revealing his shock, and then he toppled down beside his companion. She picked up his sword and went over to Gustav, handing him the gun she had retrieved.

“He almost had me! You saved my life!” Gustav panted, smiling at her with effort.

“Please don’t think about it.”

“Let’s continue,” he said, still gasping for breath.

She glanced at the two fallen men. “What about them?”

“They’ll give us no trouble for a while,” he said grimly. “They’ll either live or die. This is war, you must understand.”

Gustav took the initiative again and began searching for an entrance to the warehouse. Enid followed close on his heels, the sword in her hand and his pistol beneath her cloak. He halted by a window and then turned to her and whispered, “This one will give us entry!”

She waited while he raised it carefully and climbed inside. Then he helped her over the sill. They stood for a moment in the dank darkness of the old warehouse, listening for some signs of life. After a few moments they heard footsteps moving above them and the low murmur of male voices, the words undistinguishable.

“My guess was right,” Gustav whispered. “They are on the level above us.”

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We must find a stairway and try to get up there without their knowing it. Do you want to wait by the window?”

She shook her head. “You may need me and my sword.”

“If we have to attack, use the pistol as well this time,” he advised. “There will be no need for silence now.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

Their eyes having become more adjusted to the darkness, they began to explore the lower region of the warehouse. In one area there were stacks of wooden cases.

Gustav tapped one of the cases and whispered, “Weapons and ammunition!”

“They are setting up their own army!” Enid gasped.

“Yes,” he agreed grimly.

Then they found the stairway. Gustav motioned for her to let him go first. He climbed almost all the way up before he gave her the signal to follow.

The upper floor of the warehouse had been partitioned off to provide office space as well as more room for storage. With Gustav leading the way, they crept across the dark area at the head of the stairs toward the direction from which the voices were coming. Every so often he turned and smiled at her encouragingly.

They reached a wall with a single door in it that Enid decided must lead to some sort of office. It was from behind this door that the voices were coming. As they neared it she felt her pulse quicken, for she saw that it was ajar several inches. Both she and Gustav could see clearly inside.

The small room was lit by a single candle resting on a table. Armand was sitting in a chair, bound to it with strong rope. Standing over him was the man whom Gustav had described to Enid. The bald head, eye patch, and harsh, smiling face could belong only to the infamous agent of the revolutionists. He was flanked by two mustached, villainous-looking men armed with swords and pistols.

Louis Esmond was speaking softly to Armand. “I require only the names I have requested. That is all I ask, just the names.”

Armand, tied tightly to the chair, looked more stern than ever, and his face bore the lines of strain and weariness. “I have nothing to say to you,” he replied.

The bald man turned to his two companions and asked mockingly, “Did you hear that, good citizens? Surely he must know we cannot miss this opportunity.”

The older of the two henchmen growled, “Get at him! Have it done with!”

Esmond turned back to Armand with a cruel smile. “You heard him, Count. He is an impatient fellow! Not at all like me.”

“I have nothing to tell you,” Armand repeated doggedly.

“But of course you will talk,” Louis Esmond said smoothly. “A certain application in the proper places to stimulate you may be required. You have heard of torture, I am sure.”

“Your infamous methods are a disgrace to France,” Armand retorted, straining at his bonds without result.

“At least it is known that I’m not one to be taken lightly,” the bald man countered.

The older henchman asked, “Shall I warm the poker?”

Esmond nodded. “Yes. Bring it to me when it is ready.”

The man vanished from sight. Gustav’s warning glance told Enid that it was not yet time to move or make any sound.

Esmond regarded Armand once more. “Why must you be so tedious? I very much dislike having to use strong methods of persuasion.”

The count eyed him with disgust. “I have heard that you enjoy administering torture—especially to women and children!”

The agent’s purring manner abruptly deserted him. He slapped Armand hard across the face and shrieked, “I will not have you saying such things! I was a soldier in the king’s army! I served well and honorably! I bear the wounds of battle in the service of my country!”

“And now you despoil the country you once defended,” Armand sneered.

Esmond whirled away from him in anger. “What is the use of wasting talk on you? You are like the others—too arrogant and stupid to realize a new day has dawned for France! You cannot hope to stay the tide!”

The other associate of Esmond’s shuffled his feet impatiently. “What about Gaston?” he asked gruffly. “He and Marcel should have returned by now.”

Esmond scowled at him. Then he said, “You’d better find out where they are and what’s keeping them.”

“Will you be safe?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Esmond said. “It is more important that we know they are all right and guarding this place.”

“I’ll go search for them,” the rough fellow promised, and he headed for the open doorway.

It was a moment of unrelieved tension for Enid and Gustav. They huddled in the shadows, away from the room, and hoped they wouldn’t be seen. The ruffian clumped down the stairs, unaware of their presence.

Esmond was talking smoothly to Armand again. “The poker is ready, Count, and I shall begin with your left eye. That is the one I lost for France. You shall lose yours for stubbornness.”

“In a worthy cause,” Armand said in a low voice.

The older henchman now approached with the poker, white-hot at its point. Esmond grasped it by the handle and held it close to Armand’s eye. “I shall count to ten, and if you do not reply by then, darkness will descend—most painfully, I fear—on the vision of your left eye.”

Gustav nodded to Enid that this was the moment for action. He sprang out of the shadows with his sword drawn and burst through the doorway to stand before an astonished Esmond, the weapon pointed directly at the bald man’s throat.

“Release the count,” he ordered Enid.

She moved quickly to do his bidding. The henchman, as stunned as Esmond, nevertheless attempted to draw his gun. But Gustav was too quick for him. The pistol belonging to the fallen swordsman was now in his free hand, and he fired a fatal shot.

By this time Enid had almost freed Armand, who was shouting encouragements to her. Esmond stood glaring helplessly at the three of them. His associate who had gone outside to search for the guards returned, halting in the doorway at the sight before him, and then came at Gustav with his sword.