Flashman And The Tiger

He was so full of himself he couldn’t be still, jumping up and pacing to and fro. "That was enough for me. I chatted a moment more, as is my wont, and strolled round by the sundial corner, as he called it. Sentry-box, sure enough—and a few yards farther on an embrasure in the ivy with an old locked door! The window of the Emperor’s bedchamber is about twenty feet beyond on the storey above. Well," cries he, "what d’ye think of that for scoutin'?"

Too good to be true, indeed—yet, why not? It fitted … if the secret stairway really existed, and I had respect enough for Bismarck’s spy bandobast[organisation (Hind.)] to be confident that it did.

"So now," cries Willem, "we know just where to watch!"

"If it is the secret door, and they come that way—"

"It is, and they will!" says he impatiently. "I’m sure of it. But we’ll run no risks." He pulled a chair beside the sofa, and sat close. "I’ve thought it all out, and I’m afraid," says he with a mock-rueful grin, "that you mayn’t like it, ’cos you’ll miss most o' the sport. Sorry, old chap."

From that moment, you may be sure, I was all ears.

"It’s this way. My room’s next door here, but we’re some way from the Emperor’s quarters. Our corridor leads to the main part of the house, which is like so many of these royal places, one room opening on to another and then another, and so on. But then there’s another passage to the Emperor’s rooms—an ante-room where his orderly sleeps, and then the royal bedchamber over-lookin' the sundial garden. There’s a room off the passage for the aides—ah, you’ve met ’em, couple of society buffoons. So that’s the lie o' the land."

He paused to light another whiff. "You see the point—there are only two ways to come at Franz-Josef; either by the secret stair or along the passage leadin' past the aides' room to his quarters. Plug those, and he’s secure. Now," says he, leaning close, "I’ll lay odds the Holnup will come through the garden in the dead watch, around four, lay out the sentry quietly, jemmy the door, then upstairs and good-night Franz-Josef, all hail Crown Prince Rudolf ! But, just in case they enter the house some other way, one of us will lurk by the passage, while t’other is in the garden, coverin' the secret doorway. You follow?"

I followed, and relief was surging through me like the wave of the sea as he went on.

"You at the passage … et moi in the garden. No, shut up, Harry—it must be so because once the smoke has cleared and the Holnup are laid stiff and stark, I can say I couldn’t sleep and was just takin' a stroll and ran into ’em, see? That wouldn’t answer for you, with your game leg. Whereas if you’re watchin' the passage inside, and someone happens along, you can always say you were lookin' for the thunder-closet."

"That means," says I frowning, "that you’ll tackle ’em alone—one against perhaps three, perhaps more."

"No more than three, if so many," says he, baring his teeth. "Never fear, Harry, they’re dead men." His hands moved like lightning, and there was the Webley in one fist and the Derringer in t’other. "With all respect, old fellow, I doubt if you’re as quick with a piece as I, or as good a shot."

"Don’t know about that," says I, looking glum while repressing an urge to sing Hallelujah. "How many night ambushes have you laid?"

"Enough," says he jauntily. "Cheer up—perhaps they’ll come through the house after all!"

"And afterwards—how d’you explain that you went for a night stroll with a gun in your pocket?"

"I didn’t. Discoverin' miscreants tryin' to break in with evil intent, I gamely tackled ’em, disarmed one, and … Bob’s your uncle, as they say."

"I still don’t like it," I lied. "We’d be better with two in the garden—"

"No," says he flatly. "One must be in the house … you. When you hear a shot, make for your room, and then emerge hobblin' and roarin' for enlightenment—"

"When I hear a shot, I’ll be out o' doors before you know it. You may be good, Starnberg, but I’ve forgotten more about night fighting than you’ll ever know. And that, my son, is that." It’s always been second nature with me to act sullen-reluctant when I’ve been denied the prospect of battle and murder; suits my character, you see. In the event that he had to tackle the Holnup alone, the last thing I’d dream of doing would be to hasten to his aid; back to bed and snug down deaf as a post, that would be the ticket for Flashy, and he could have the glory to himself—which, I realised, was what he’d intended all along; I’d been necessary for gaining admittance, and all the rest had been so much gas. Well, good luck, Willem, and I hope you kill a lot of Hungarians.