The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald

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      I whirled round a corner; there was a corridor obviously leading to the back, and I pounded along it, my protesting helpmeet clutching her bonnet and squeaking in alarm. A startled black face popped out of a side-door; I hit it in panic and Elspeth screamed. The corridor turned at right angles; I swore and plunged into an empty room – a glimpse of a long table and dining chairs in the silent dark, and beyond, French windows. I hurtled towards them, hauling her along, and wrenched them open. We were in the garden, dim in the moon-shadows; I cocked an ear and heard – nothing.

      “Harry!” She was squealing in my ear. “What are you about? Leave go my arm – I won’t be hustled, do you hear?”

      “You’ll either be hustled or dead!” I hissed. “Silence! We are in deadly danger – do you understand? They are coming to arrest us – to kill us! For your life’s sake, do as I tell you – and shut up!”

      There was a path, running between high hedges; we sped along it, she demanding in breathless whispers to know what was happening: at the end I got my bearings; we were to the side of the building, in shrubbery, with the front drive round to our left, and from the hidden front door I could hear a harsh voice raised – in Malagassy, unfortunately, but I caught enough words to chill my blood. “Sergeant-general … arrest … search.” I groaned softly, and Elspeth began babbling again.

      “Oh, my dress is torn! Harry, it is too bad! What are you – why are we – ow!” I had clapped a hand over her mouth.

      “Be quiet, you silly mort!” I whispered. “We’re escaping! There are soldiers hunting us! The Queen is trying to kill me!”

      She made muffled noises, and then got her mouth free. “How dare you call me that horrid word! What does it mean? Let me go this instant! You are hurting my wrist, Harry! What is this absurd nonsense about the Quee—” The shrill torrent was cut off as I imprisoned her mouth again.

      “For G-d’s sake, woman – they’ll hear us!” I pulled her in close to the wall. “Keep your voice down, will you?” I took my hand away, unwisely.

      “But why?” At least she had the wit to whisper. “Why are we – oh, I think you are gammoning me! Well, it is a very poor joke, Harry Flashman, and I—”

      “Please, Elspeth!” I implored, shaking my fist in her face. “It’s true, I swear! If they hear us – we’re dead!”

      My grimacing frenzy may have half-convinced her; at least her pretty mouth opened and closed again with a faint “Oh!” And then, as I crouched, straining my ears for any sound of the searchers, came the tiniest whisper: “But Harry, my band-box …”

      I glared her into silence, and then ventured a peep round the angle of the wall. There was a Hova trooper on the porch, leaning on his spear; I could hear faint sounds of talk from the hall – that d----d butler giving the game away, no doubt. Suddenly from behind us, in the dark towards the back of the house, came the crash of a shutter and a harsh voice shouting. Elspeth squeaked, I jumped, and the Hova on the porch must have heard the shout too, for he called to the hall – and here, to my horror, came an under-officer, bounding down the porch steps sword in hand, and running along the front of the house towards our corner.

      There was only one thing for it. I seized Elspeth and thrust her down on her face in the deep shadow at the foot of the wall, sprawling on top of her and hissing frantically to her to keep quiet and lie still. We were only in the nick of time – he rounded the angle of the house and came to a dead stop almost on top of us, his boots spurning the gravel within a yard of Elspeth’s head. For a terrible instant I thought he’d seen us – the great black figure towered above us, silhouetted against the night sky, the sword glittering in his hand, but he didn’t move, and I realized he was staring towards the back of the house, listening. I could feel Elspeth palpitating beneath me, her turned face a faint white blur just beneath my own – oh, Ch---t, I prayed, don’t let him look down! Suddenly he bawled something in Malagassy, and took a half-step forward – my blood froze as his boot descended within inches of Elspeth’s face – but right on top of her hand!

      She started violently beneath me – and then he must have shifted his weight, for as in a nightmare I heard a tiny crack, and her whole body shuddered. Paralysed, I waited for her scream – he must glance down now! – but a voice was shouting from the back of the house, his was bellowing right above us in reply, he plunged forward, his leg brushing my curls, and then he was gone, striding away down the path behind us into the dark, and Elspeth’s breath came out in a little, shivering moan. I was afoot in an instant, hauling her upright, half-carrying her into the denser shrubbery on the lawn, knowing we hadn’t an instant to lose, bundling her along and hoping to heaven she wouldn’t faint. If we could get quickly through the shrubbery unobserved, moving parallel with the drive, and so come to the gate – would they have left a sentry there?

      Fortunately the shrubbery screened our blundering progress entirely; we plunged through the undergrowth and fetched up gasping beneath a great clump of ferns not ten yards from the gate. Far back to our left the Hova was still on the house porch beneath the lamp; through the bushes ahead I could make out the faint gleam of the gate – lantern, but no sound, except from far behind us, where there were distant voices at the back of the house – were they coming nearer …? I peered cautiously through the fringe of bushes towards the gate – oh, G-d, there was a d----d great Hova, not five yards away, his spear held across his body, looking back towards the house. The light gleamed dully on his massive bare arms and chest, on his gorilla features and gleaming spearhead – my innards quailed at the sight; I couldn’t hope to pass that, not with Elspeth in tow – and at that moment my loved one decided to give voice again.

      “Harry!” She was hissing in my ear. “That man – that man stood on my hand! I’m sure my finger is broke!” I recall noting that it must have been indignation rather than complaint, for she added a word which frankly I didn’t think she knew.

      “Ssht!” I had my lips against her ear. “I know! We’ll … we’ll mend it presently. There’s a guard on the gate – must get past him!” The voices at the back of the house were growing louder – it was now or never. “Can you walk?”

      “Of course I can walk! It is my poor finger—”

      “Sssht, for Ch---t’s sake! Look, old girl – we must distract his attention, d’you see? The chap on the gate, d— it!” I wouldn’t have thought I could yammer and whisper simultaneously – but then I wouldn’t have thought I’d be stuck in the bushes in Madagascar plotting escape with a blonde imbecile whose mind, I’ll swear, was divided evenly between her wounded finger and her lost band-box. “Yes, he’s out there! Now, listen – you must count to five – five, you know – and then stand up and walk out on to the drive! Can you, dearest? – just walk out, there’s a good girl! Nod, curse you!”

      I saw her lips framing “Why?” but then she nodded – and suddenly kissed me on the cheek. Then I was sliding away to the right, fumbling for my hilt beneath the cloak … three … four … five. There was a rustle as she stood up; she seemed to sway for a moment, and then she had stepped through the bushes and turned to face the gate.

      The Hova leaped about four feet, stood with eyes bulging, and let out a yell as he started towards her. Two paces brought him level with me; I clutched the hilt in a frenzy of fear (if it had been any other woman I believe I’d have bolted straight for the gate, but one’s wife, you know …) and launched myself through the ferns at his flank, drawing as I sprang. There wasn’t time to use the point; I continued the draw in a desperate sweep, and as he whirled to meet me the blade took him clean across the face with a sickening jar. I had an instant’s glimpse of blood spurting СКАЧАТЬ