The Czar's Spy: The Mystery of a Silent LoveLe Queux, William
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The Czar's Spy: The Mystery of a Silent Love
Le Queux, William
Spy stories
An oath escaped him, yet in that moment Elma succeeded in twisting the
gun from his sinewy hands, which I now held with a strength begotten of
a knowledge of my imminent peril. My whole future, as well as hers,
depended upon my success in that desperate encounter. He was huge and
powerful, with a strength far exceeding my own, yet I had been reckoned
a good wrestler at Uppingham, and now my knowledge of that most ancient
form of combat held me in good stead.
The man shouted for help, his deep, hoarse voice sounding along the
stone corridors. If heard by his comrades-in-arms, then the alarm would
at once be given.
We struggled desperately, swaying to and fro, he trying to throw me,
while I, at every turn, practiced upon him the tricks learned in my
youth. It seemed an even match, however, for he kept his feet by sheer
brute force, and his muscles seemed hard and unbending as steel.
Suddenly, however, as we were striving so vigorously and desperately,
the English girl slipped past us with the carbine in her hand, and with
a quick movement dragged open the heavy door that gave exit to the
lake.
At that instant I unfortunately made a false move, and his hand closed
upon my throat like a band of steel. I fought and struggled to loose
myself, exerting every muscle, but alas! he gained the advantage. I
heard a splash, and saw that Elma no longer held the sentry's weapon in
her hands, having thrown it into the water.
Then at the same moment I heard a voice outside cry in a low tone:
"Courage, Excellency! Courage! I will come and help you."
It was the faithful Finn, who had been awaiting me in the deep shadow,
and with a few strokes pulled his boat up to the narrow rickety ledge
outside the door.
"Take the lady!" I succeeded in gasping in Russian. "Never mind me," and
I saw to my satisfaction that he guided Elma to step into the boat,
which at that moment drifted past the little platform.
I struggled valiantly, but against such a man of brute strength I was
powerless. He held my throat, causing me excruciating pain, and each
moment I felt my chance of victory grow smaller. My strength was
failing. While I held his arms at his sides, I could keep him secure
without much effort, but now with his fingers pressing in my windpipe I
could not breathe.
I was slowly being strangled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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