The two brothers were now alone in the observatory. Zeno had been carried thither and bound in the easy-chair before the great open window. Feodor sat at his big telescope watching the anchored vessel. At intervals as he sat he informed his prisoner of what he saw passing on board.
"The roll of the drum is summoning the crew to evening prayer. The fools! . . . The watch is being set for the night. . . . Now they are hauling down the flag. . . . The captain has gone into his cabin and his lieutenant has taken the quarter-deck. . . . Now the look-out in the main-top is taking a pull from his bottle. In a moment he will drop off to sleep. . . . One by one the lights are being put out; only those from the captain's windows are now to be seen. . . . Soon they will all be asleep—in the Lord! So—good-night!"
"And now, brother," said Feodor, "the entertainment I promised you is about to begin. My fellows are already sitting in your long-boat and their own skiffs. The sound of the bell is the signal that all is ready."
With these words he left Zeno alone in the observatory and hurried downstairs to give the signal.
With a violent effort, Zeno succeeded in getting one foot so far out of his bonds that he could reach the ground with his heel. With this foot he gradually pushed himself nearer and nearer to the edge of the low open window. Then, with a desperate effort, he tilted the chair forward, and precipitated himself and it together into the depths beneath. For him there was neither entertainment nor spectacle any more on this earth.
Meantime Feodor strode down to the dining-room where he usually rang the bell in the concealed room by means of the silken cord. He stopped suddenly and turned pale with fear when he discovered that the cord had been cut.
"The cord had been cut"
He burst into the next room. There Mashinka's bed was empty. He hurried into his son's bedroom. The boys were nowhere to be seen. The open window and the rope dangling outside in the wind told him plainly enough of their flight.
It was too late now. In vain his cry of wrath sounded through the fortress. In vain he pierced with his sword the empty bed from which his victim had escaped. In vain he now beat his breast for having harboured a human feeling within it. That weakness, he now saw, had indeed been his ruin.
In his boundless wrath he rushed up to the observatory to wreak all his baffled vengeance on his one remaining victim. He consoled himself with the thought that he at least could not escape.
But Zeno too had vanished. He was no longer where he had left him.
Feodor stretched his body far out of the open window and shrieked his brother's name. There was no response but the dull dashing of the waves against the rocks below.
When he raised his eyes again and looked towards the war-ship an icy chill ran through his heart. The windows of the vessel were all lighted up, and the crew were lining the bulwarks.
"Betrayed!—utterly betrayed!" he cried in despair as he cursed and abjured the Devil and all his works. "Nay, there is no Devil!—there is nothing!—nothing!"
It was not until the next day that Feodor learned all that had taken place in the outer world.
A company of armed men were now advancing against his fortifications from the direction of the island, while the war-ship had turned her broadside with its triple row of guns against the tower.
After landing a party to storm the building from the land side, the St. Thomas had stood off for the attack.
In conformity with custom, the besiegers, before beginning the assault, summoned the fortress to surrender in order that the shedding of blood might be avoided.
The Very Reverend Herr Waimœner, accompanied by a herald, came as a messenger of peace to the great door of the tower and, with the blast of a trumpet, called upon its commander to take part in peaceful negotiations.
Feodor sent him the hunchback who acted as his castellan. "The fellow is stone-deaf," said he; "let them negotiate with him!"
But the hunchback was not stone-deaf—at least when he cared to hear. He merely chose to deceive the deceivers.
Right well did he understand the reverend gentleman's summons. According to it, every man would be granted free departure, immunity from all punishment, and as much of the tower's treasure as his shoulders could bear, if only the Master were delivered alive into the hands of justice.
The castellan first returned and imparted the news to those of his companions who were keeping watch at the door. These passed it on to the others.
At this juncture the Master appeared in their midst. As of yore they gathered round him and listened attentively to his words.
"Men!" cried Feodor, "we have now to stand the test of fire, and show the world what forty fellows like us can do in a stronghold like this. We have magnificent guns and enough ammunition and provisions to last till doomsday. We will sweep away all who attempt to creep along that rocky ridge, and will send that ship to the bottom should she dare to come within range of our guns."
He paused as if to observe the effect of his words upon those around him, but there was not the spirited response which he had expected.
"Even if we be overcome," he went on desperately, "is it not enough if we send the tower and our enemies into the air together, our hands gripping their throats to the last? Thus, either they will bear us aloft with them to Heaven—or we will drag them down with us to Hell. Up, then, and ready with fire and sword!"
Time was when such an address would have been greeted with a storm of applause. Now it was received with silence and strangely sullen faces.
Presently the hunchback stepped forth from the band.
"Master," he said, "I have heard all your fine words—for, you see, I am not always deaf—and must say now that it is a very beautiful religion, this that you have taught us. 'That which is agreeable to me is right; that which is hurtful to another is not wrong.' Fidelity, too, is a virtue—then it is not for us, the Devil's children! All you say is good—very good indeed. However, we have been promised freedom and a sackful of your treasure if we only deliver you up alive. That is quite agreeable to us; so it is right. You will certainly be quartered. That is, indeed, hurtful to you; so it is not wrong. If we do not remain true to you we shall still please the Devil perfectly, for fidelity—as you have ever preached—is a virtue. Therefore we will rather give you up than accompany you in the aërial flight you speak of."
They all laughed loudly in chorus, and Feodor laughed strangely along with them.
"What is agreeable to me is right; what is hurtful to another is not wrong!" the men shouted derisively in his very face.
This, then, was to be the triumph of his religion!
They had evidently learned their lesson only too well from him.
"But you will get nothing by your treachery!" exclaimed the Master suddenly.
And ere they could lay hands on him he had drawn a pistol from his belt; there was a click and a flash, and Feodor von Ungern fell dead in their midst.
Alexander and Paul returned to Russia, and like brothers shared the property of their estranged parents between them.
But the Tower of Dago still rises high above the rocky promontory of the island, and serves as the safe untroubled haunt of the wild sea-birds for miles around.