[CHAPTER XXI]
HARE AND HOUNDS
For two hours or more, Hammersley and the girl, taking turn and turn, watched the road and forest from the amphitheater of rocks. The road in times of peace was a short route from Windenberg to Schöndorf and popular with the market-folk. But the restrictions put upon visits to Blaufelden had resulted in the diversion of traffic from the south slope of the mountains to the longer road in the valley upon the other side. The few who appeared were men in uniform. From his lofty perch Hammersley espied Captain Wentz as he hurried by with several men in an automobile. Just beyond the crag the automobile was stopped and the men dismounted and went on afoot. Clearly they meant to continue the search abroad. Hammersley chuckled.
“Hare and hounds!” he muttered to himself. “The more men to the eastward, the fewer to the west. By Jove!”
The expletive was not unusual with Hammersley but the manner of its utterance gave it importance. He crossed the level quickly and peered again at the vanishing figures of the men. A new idea had been born. Hare and hounds! A game he had played at Eton—a game as old as sport, as old as hunting! And for such a prize!
He hurried into the cave, glancing hurriedly at his watch. It was noon. Doris sat upon the stool near Udo von Winden. Hammersley went over to their captive and examined his bonds and then gave the girl a few hasty instructions.
“I am going down below to be gone two—perhaps three hours.”
A quick intake of the breath escaped her but she caught her under lip in her teeth and said nothing.
“Don’t worry,” he went on cheerfully, “I’m coming back. I’ll promise you that. I’ve got a plan,” he whispered, “a new plan, a noble plan, a plan that will make our game an easy one. It will be harder for you than for me, Doris, because you’ve only got to sit and wait and try to be patient.”
While he was talking he had taken off the belts that contained the two pistols, fastening one around Doris. Then he took off his leather jacket and put it on the table, fastening the other belt containing Udo’s cartridges and automatic over his gray sweater. She watched him timidly.
“But suppose Graf von Winden should get his arms free,” she protested. “I cannot shoot him, Cyril—I cannot—not that——”