Whiff Of Money

'Do what I tell you!' Girland said curtly and moved to the door. He opened it, watched the sleeping guard for several moments, then slid out into the corridor. He entered the room next door. A few minutes later, he returned as silently as he had gone with two more lengths of cord. These he knotted to the end of the cord dangling from the window and then continued to lower the cord which now just reached the ground. He tied his end to the balcony rail and moved back into the room.

'It might fool them,' he said. 'Even if it doesn't, it will gain us time.'

'Can't we use those ropes? We could get out of here!'

Girland shook his head.

'I could, but you couldn't, so we don't go that way.'

She caught hold of his hand.

'Once we get free, I promise I'll leave my father alone. I won't ever bother him again... I promise.'

'All right, but first we have to get out of here. Now, let's get moving. Take your shoes off. I want to look at the other rooms. This one is too small'

They both took off their shoes, then Girland opened the door and watched the sleeping guard, then led Gilly out into the corridor. Silently, they moved away from the head of the stairs, down the long dark corridor to the far end. At the end of the corridor, double, ornate doors faced them. Girland briefly used his flashlight.

'Wait,' he said softly.

He went forward, listened against the door, turned a handle and eased the door open. He listened again, then put on the flashlight.

The beam scarcely penetrated the vastness of the room which appeared to be a banqueting hall. For a brief moment, Girland was startled to see shadowy figures lining the walls. A further probe of his light showed him this was a vast hall full of armour, fitted to stands and the walls covered with medieval weapons. He wasn't to know that in this room was one of the finest collections of Italian, German and English armour that Herman Radnitz had collected from all parts of Europe.

He returned to where Gilly was waiting.

'We have lots of company,' he said. 'Come on in. This looks as good a hiding-place as we can hope for.'

As he entered, Girland gently closed the door.

The guard at the head of the staircase continued to sleep.

From his tree-top perch, Malik watched Girland come out on to the fifth floor balcony and lower the knotted curtain cord until it reached the second storey. He watched him lean over the balcony rail, look down and then move back out of sight. Malik guessed he was getting more cord.

The bright light of the moon lit up the face of the Schloss and Malik found it unnecessary to use his night glasses. He eased his broad back against the trunk of the tree and waited. Girland returned and added two more lengths to the cord and then fastened his end to the balcony rail.

So they were going to make a break, Malik thought. The climb down would be dangerous: with the girl, doubly dangerous. He continued to watch with interest.

But nothing further happened. The wooden shutter remained half open; the balcony remained deserted. A half hour crawled by. Malik then decided that this length of rope was a red herring. He nodded his approval. He had come up against Girland several times and each time, his admiration for the way Girland handled a situation increased. So, after all, Girland had decided to remain in this enormous Schloss, but to give those who were hunting for him the hint that he and the girl had escaped into the forest. Malik approved of this plan.

He remained astride the thick branch of the tree for another half hour. All the lights of the Schloss had long gone out. It would be when the sun came up behind the hills that the hunt would begin.

He considered what he should do. Girland was in there on his own. The girl would be more a hindrance than a help.

Malik remembered that moment when Girland could have had him shot, but instead, to Malik's amazement, Girland had handed him back his gun, saying to the girl who had wanted to shoot him: 'Don't get worked up, baby. He and I just happen to be on the wrong side of the Curtain. Both of us are professionals . . . working in the same dirty racket. There comes a time when we can forget the little stinkers at the top who pull strings ...' (see 'Have This One On Me') Malik remembered this incident vividly. This, he knew was something he would never have said to a man he had in a hopeless trap. Girland's words had made a tremendous impression on him. There comes a time when we can forget the little stinkers at the top who pull the strings . . .