Dracula's Guest
and began to run. As I passed to the left of where I had entered the
water I heard several splashes, soft and stealthy, like the sound a rat
makes as he plunges into the stream, but vastly greater; and as I
looked I saw the dark sheen of the water broken by the ripples of
several advancing heads. Some of my enemies were swimming the stream
also.
And now behind me, up the stream, the silence was broken by the quick
rattle and creak of oars; my enemies were in hot pursuit. I put my best
leg foremost and ran on. After a break of a couple of minutes I looked
back, and by a gleam of light through the ragged clouds I saw several
dark forms climbing the bank behind me. The wind had now begun to rise,
and the water beside me was ruffled and beginning to break in tiny
waves on the bank. I had to keep my eyes pretty well on the ground
before me, lest I should stumble, for I knew that to stumble was death.
After a few minutes I looked back behind me. On the dyke were only a
few dark figures, but crossing the waste, swampy ground were many more.
What new danger this portended I did not know—could only guess. Then as
I ran it seemed to me that my track kept ever sloping away to the
right. I looked up ahead and saw that the river was much wider than
before, and that the dyke on which I stood fell quite away, and beyond
it was another stream on whose near bank I saw some of the dark forms
now across the marsh. I was on an island of some kind.
My situation was now indeed terrible, for my enemies had hemmed me in
on every side. Behind came the quickening roll of the oars, as though
my pursuers knew that the end was close. Around me on every side was
desolation; there was not a roof or light, as far as I could see. Far
off to the right rose some dark mass, but what it was I knew not. For a
moment I paused to think what I should do, not for more, for my
pursuers were drawing closer. Then my mind was made up. I slipped down
the bank and took to the water. I struck out straight ahead so as to
gain the current by clearing the backwater of the island, for such I
presume it was, when I had passed into the stream. I waited till a
cloud came driving across the moon and leaving all in darkness. Then I
took off my hat and laid it softly on the water floating with the
stream, and a second after dived to the right and struck out under
water with all my might. I was, I suppose, half a minute under water,
and when I rose came up as softly as I could, and turning, looked back.
There went my light brown hat floating merrily away. Close behind it
came a rickety old boat, driven furiously by a pair of oars. The moon
was still partly obscured by the drifting clouds, but in the partial
light I could see a man in the bows holding aloft ready to strike what
appeared to me to be that same dreadful pole-axe which I had before
escaped. As I looked the boat drew closer, closer, and the man struck
savagely. The hat disappeared. The man fell forward, almost out of the
boat. His comrades dragged him in but without the axe, and then as I
turned with all my energies bent on reaching the further bank, I heard
the fierce whirr of the muttered “Sacre!” which marked the anger of my
baffled pursuers.
That was the first sound I had heard from human lips during all this
dreadful chase, and full as it was of menace and danger to me it was a
welcome sound for it broke that awful silence which shrouded and
appalled me. It was as though an overt sign that my opponents were men
and not ghosts, and that with them I had, at least, the chance of a
man, though but one against many.
But now that the spell of silence was broken the sounds came thick and
fast. From boat to shore and back from shore to boat came quick
question and answer, all in the fiercest whispers. I looked back—a
fatal thing to do—for in the instant someone caught sight of my face,
which showed white on the dark water, and shouted. Hands pointed to me,
and in a moment or two the boat was under weigh, and following hard
after me. I had but a little way to go, but quicker and quicker came
the boat after me. A few more strokes and I would be on the shore, but
I felt the oncoming of the boat, and expected each second to feel the
crash of an oar or other weapon on my head. Had I not seen that
dreadful axe disappear in the water I do not think that I could have
won the shore. I heard the muttered curses of those not rowing and the
laboured breath of the rowers. With one supreme effort for life or
liberty I touched the bank and sprang up it. There was not a single
second to spare, for hard behind me the boat grounded and several dark
forms sprang after me. I gained the top of the dyke, and keeping to the
left ran on again. The boat put off and followed down the stream.
Seeing this I feared danger in this direction, and quickly turning, ran
down the dyke on the other side, and after passing a short stretch of
marshy ground gained a wild, open flat country and sped on.
Still behind me came on my relentless pursuers. Far away, below me, I
saw the same dark mass as before, but now grown closer and greater. My
heart gave a great thrill of delight, for I knew that it must be the
fortress of Bicêtre, and with new courage I ran on. I had heard that
between each and all of the protecting forts of Paris there are
strategic ways, deep sunk roads where soldiers marching should be
sheltered from an enemy. I knew that if I could gain this road I would
be safe, but in the darkness I could not see any sign of it, so, in
blind hope of striking it, I ran on.
Presently I came to the edge of a deep cut, and found that down below
me ran a road guarded on each side by a ditch of water fenced on either
side by a straight, high wall.
Getting fainter and dizzier, I ran on; the ground got more broken—more
and more still, till I staggered and fell, and rose again, and ran on
in the blind anguish of the hunted. Again the thought of Alice nerved
me. I would not be lost and wreck her life: I would fight and struggle
for life to the bitter end. With a great effort I caught the top of the
wall. As, scrambling like a catamount, I drew myself up, I actually
felt a hand touch the sole of my foot. I was now on a sort of causeway,
and before me I saw a dim light. Blind and dizzy, I ran on, staggered,
and fell, rising, covered with dust and blood.
“Halt la!”
The words sounded like a voice from heaven. A blaze of light seemed to
enwrap me, and I shouted with joy.
“Qui va la?” The rattle of musketry, the flash of steel before my eyes.
Instinctively I stopped, though close behind me came a rush of my
pursuers.
Another word or two, and out from a gateway poured, as it seemed to me,
a tide of red and blue, as the guard turned out. All around seemed
blazing with light, and the flash of steel, the clink and rattle of
arms, and the loud, harsh voices of command. As I fell forward, utterly
exhausted, a soldier caught me. I looked back in dreadful expectation,
and saw the mass of dark forms disappearing into the night. Then I must
have fainted. When I recovered my senses I was in the guard room. They
gave me brandy, and after a while I was able to tell them something of
what had passed. Then a commissary of police appeared, apparently out
of the empty air, as is the way of the Parisian police officer. He
listened attentively, and then had a moment’s consultation with the
officer in command. Apparently they were agreed, for they asked me if I
were ready now to come with them.
“Where to?” I asked, rising to go.
“Back to the dust heaps. We shall, perhaps, catch them yet!”
“I shall try!” said I.
He eyed me for a moment keenly, and said suddenly:
“Would you like to wait a while or till tomorrow, young Englishman?”
This touched me to the quick, as, perhaps, he intended, and I jumped to
my feet.
“Come now!” I said; “now! now! An Englishman is always ready for his
duty!”
The commissary was a good fellow, as well as a shrewd one; he slapped
my shoulder kindly. “Brave garçon!” he said. “Forgive me, but I knew
what would do you most good. The guard is ready. Come!”
And so, passing right through the guard room, and through a long
vaulted passage, we were out into the night. A few of the men in front
had powerful lanterns. Through courtyards and down a sloping way we
passed out through a low archway to a sunken road, the same that I had
seen in my flight. The order was given to get at the double, and with a
quick, springing stride, half run, half walk, the soldiers went swiftly
along. I felt my strength renewed again—such is the difference between
hunter and hunted. A very short distance took us to a low-lying pontoon
bridge across the stream, and evidently very little higher up than I
had struck it. Some effort had evidently been made to damage it, for
the ropes had all been cut, and one of the chains had been broken. I
heard the officer say to the commissary:
“We are just in time! A few more minutes, and they would have destroyed
the bridge. Forward, quicker still!” and on we went. Again we reached a
pontoon on the winding stream; as we came up we heard the hollow boom
of the metal drums as the efforts to destroy the bridge was again
renewed. A word of command was given, and several men raised their
rifles.
“Fire!” A volley rang out. There was a muffled cry, and the dark forms
dispersed. But the evil was done, and we saw the far end of the pontoon
swing into the stream. This was a serious delay, and it was nearly an
hour before we had renewed ropes and restored the bridge sufficiently
to allow us to cross.
We renewed the chase. Quicker, quicker we went towards the dust heaps.
After a time we came to a place that I knew. There were the remains of
a fire—a few smouldering wood ashes still cast a red glow, but the bulk
of the ashes were cold. I knew the site of the hut and the hill behind
it up which I had rushed, and in the flickering glow the eyes of the
rats still shone with a sort of phosphorescence. The commissary spoke a
word to the officer, and he cried:
“Halt!”
The soldiers were ordered to spread around and watch, and then we
commenced to examine the ruins. The commissary himself began to lift
away the charred boards and rubbish. These the soldiers took and piled
together. Presently he started back, then bent down and rising beckoned
me.
“See!” he said.
It was a gruesome sight. There lay a skeleton face downwards, a woman
by the lines—an old woman by the coarse fibre of the bone. Between the
ribs rose a long spike-like dagger made from a butcher’s sharpening
knife, its keen point buried in the spine.
“You will observe,” said the commissary to the officer and to me as he
took out his note book, “that the woman must have fallen on her dagger.
The rats are many here—see their eyes glistening among that heap of
bones—and you will also notice”—I shuddered as he placed his hand on
the skeleton—“that but little time was lost by them, for the bones are
scarcely cold!”
There was no other sign of any one near, living or dead; and so
deploying again into line the soldiers passed on. Presently we came to
the hut made of the old wardrobe. We approached. In five of the six
compartments was an old man sleeping—sleeping so soundly that even the
glare of the lanterns did not wake them. Old and grim and grizzled they
looked, with their gaunt, wrinkled, bronzed faces and their white
moustaches.
The officer called out harshly and loudly a word of command, and in an
instant each one of them was on his feet before us and standing at
“attention!”
“What do you here?”
“We sleep,” was the answer.
“Where are the other chiffoniers?” asked the commissary.
“Gone to work.”
“And you?”
“We are on guard!”
“Peste!” laughed the officer grimly, as he looked at the old men one