to

frank harris

{143}

in their little flat between rue egnatia and the northern end of rue venizelos, marie and alys cruchot deemed themselves safe from the great fire which, no one quite knew how, broke out in salonika that oppressive sunday in august, 1917. their habit of holding themselves aloof from their neighbours, of disdaining even to recognize their neighbours’ existence, had isolated them from all local news, and in the hours of excitement that filled sunday evening they held themselves more proudly than ever. the fire was a very long way off, and even if it should spread in their direction, it must be days before it could reach them.

marie, the elder sister, was golden-haired and slim and tall: her skin was golden, and gold-brown were her eyes. she was twenty-three. alys had her sister’s straightness and slimness; but her hair was dark, her skin was very white, and her eyes were almost lilac-blue. alys was nineteen.

their father had been chaplain to the french colony in salonika, and immediately after his death in 1914 the two girls had been compelled to rely upon their own efforts for the means of support. refusing all offers of help from their friends, they quickly acquired a working knowledge of shorthand, and were now employed as typists in the great store in rue venizelos from ten till six.

none guarded their virtue so carefully as they guarded theirs: no lives were more secluded or better ordered. to those whom circumstances compelled them to know, they were very gentle; but to strangers they presented a reserved and haughty front that protected them from a{144}ll whom their beauty attracted and fascinated.

“shall we go to bed?” asked marie, late in the evening.

“well,” said alys, rather gravely, “to tell you the truth, i feel too excited to sleep.”

she was standing at the window looking at a livid sky.

marie rose from her work at the table and joined her sister.

“look!” said alys; “isn’t it wonderful? i think it’s going to be one of the big fires of history. some day children will learn about this in school-books.”

marie put her arm round her sister’s neck and patted her cheek.

“yes, little princess, it is wonderful. look at that smoke, how it rolls and writhes!—just as though it felt angry.”

alys nodded and nestled closer to her sister.

“are you afraid?” asked marie.

“oh, no: not afraid: it is too beautiful to make me afraid. perhaps i am what is called awe-struck.”

in the street below men and women were rushing to and fro distractedly, carrying armfuls of their household goods—blankets, mattresses, pots and pans, bird-cages, babies, carpets, cradles, chairs, etc. they dumped them in the street, the womenfolk sitting on them whilst their men went far afield seeking means of transport. across the street, on the second storey, a wine-merchant, at his wits’ end, was hurling casks of wine onto the pavement below; each burst op{145}en with a crash, the wine rushing out and making a thick stream in the gutter. no one stopped to laugh at him.

“what cowards these natives are!” exclaimed marie, with disgust; “they always begin to squeal before they’re hurt.”

“i should like to go out and wander about and see what everybody is doing,” said alys.

“better not,” counselled marie. “there’ll be a lot of looting, i expect, and half the natives will be drunk. look how frightfully excited they all are! but we must not get too excited or we shall never sleep. we have to work to-morrow, you know.”

still, they stood for a long time at the window, fascinated yet contemptuous. the scene below grew wilder minute by minute. the vast white furnace half a mile away lit up the street. confusion was everywhere. occasionally, a woman’s shriek came up to them like a stupid bit of theatricality. now and again a band of young men brandishing sticks marched down the street, singing and laughing.

at last, marie drew her sister within the room.

“thank god we are not as other people,” she said, smiling. “let us go to bed.”

they shared the same room. alys was afraid, but she did not dare confess her fear to her sister. marie had always taught her that they were better than other people. no doubt they were better. nevertheless, she trembled a little as she knelt down to pray. her fear increased when she discovered that she was mumbling words witho{146}ut any thought or hope behind them.

suddenly, she started and rose to her feet.

“what is that?” she asked, panting.

they heard the noise of heavy furniture being moved in the flat above.

“i was wondering how long they would dare to stay,” said marie, contemptuously. “this is a city of cowards.”

alys slipped into bed, and marie, who slept at the other side of the room, came over and kissed her.

“are you quite sure?” asked alys.

“what do you mean, little dear?”

“oh, nothing. but we really are safe, aren’t we?”

“of course we are. even if they don’t put the fire out, it can’t reach us for days and days. good-night, princess. sleep well!”

she put her arm round her sister’s neck and, for a little minute, lingered in love, blessing her. then she rose, walked over to her own bed and, having drawn the thick curtains over the windows, blew out the solitary candle.

but alys could not sleep. she only half-slept. her tired little body seemed to sleep, but her mind buried itself in fancies—the sort of fancies that come to us in fever. this is what her imagination said to her:

“if the fire should come up the stair, walking, running. then marie and i would have to jump from the window.... you can buy fire. they put fire on the end of little match-stalks and sell him. they imprison him in tiny bits of phosphor{147}us.... oh, yes: just rub a match between your moist palms in the dark and your hands seem to be on fire. but it isn’t fire, really—just a strange kind of light.... imprison! but no one likes being caged up. fire doesn’t. sometimes he leaps out of his cage—like to-night—and just shows you.... if we were in the street, we should be trampled on. marie has not thought of these things.... tiny bits of phosphorus. just matches....”

most wildly did these fancies crowd upon her. real sleep came at last.

marie and alys were the only two who slept that night in that quarter of the town.

adolph’s face was thin and intellectual. he had beautiful hands, and his wrists and ankles were as thin as an athlete’s. he sat in his gaudy brothel, drinking.

“a real god-send,” he said to his partner, and as he spoke he tapped his fingers on the little table holding their drinks. “a real slap-up present from the almighty. delivered free of charge.”

“oh yes, oh yes: god is good. but what are we to do?” asked his partner, the man whom they called tansy.

“well, it’s simply a matter of choice. we’ve plenty to select from. all our customers are sick of these barcelona girls: they haven’t a bite left in them. they start in paris. their bloom off, they go to london. when london’s suc{148}ked them dry, they go to marseilles and from marseilles to port said and from port said they come here and from here they go to ... well, i suppose they go to hell. not a single one comes from barcelona. now, we could do with half-a-dozen virgins.”

“virgins?” asked tansy, leering filthily. “and what strange fowl may they be?”

“well, the cruchot girls are virgins. marie and alys. i’ve had them at the top of my list for three years. they’re worth six thousand drachm? apiece. from pedro’s report here, the fire should reach their house at a quarter to one.”

“they’ll have skedaddled by now,” said tansy, “it’s just on midnight.”

“they were at home an hour ago!” exclaimed adolph.

“well, what do you say to getting these two to-night and leaving the second-rate stuff till to-morrow?”

adolph nodded.

“we’d better take mrs. knumf along with us.”

he rang a bell. presently a male servant entered.

“tell mrs. knumf i want her. she must put on her outdoor things,” said adolph.

he dismissed the man with a motion of his flawless hand.

“another drink,” suggested tansy.

“i’ve had enough.”

“share a bottle o{149}f champagne with me; this is a night of nights. besides, we want priming. those cruchot girls will require a hell of a lot of managing. you see! if the elder one suspects anything, she’ll fight like a demon.”

he opened a bottle of champagne and filled two glasses. they drank. tansy sat leering and perspiring. soon the door opened and in walked a woman of incredible and revolting respectability. she was dressed in black.

“ah! mrs. knumf,” said adolph. “sit down. have some wine. now, you know the cruchot girls, don’t you?”

“oh, yes. at least, by sight,” said mrs. knumf, sipping her wine genteelly, and simpering.

“well, tansy and i are after them. they’re still in their flat. in half-an-hour or so the fire will be upon them. we must let them nearly get caught, and then we’ll rescue them. it should be simple enough. we will take the carriage. they will come back here with you. this is your private house: it is the headquarters of the sisters of mercy of the orient: it is a branch of the sacred heart league: it is anything you like to call it. you understand? well, then, come along.”

mrs. knumf eagerly swallowed the remainder of her champagne and rose. she composed her face and began to fiddle with a pair of black gloves. she coughed behind a delicate hand.

they passed into the street and entered a carriage. even here, near the quay, they could hear the explosive noises that the hundred-acre furnace made. a vast belt of smoke blotted out half the stars. millions of sparks were jerked into, and quenched by, the smoke, like wat{150}er frantically forced through a hose-pipe.

they had but seven or eight hundred yards to go; the streets were crowded and they could proceed only at a snail’s pace. so intense was the light and so black the shadows that the streets and buildings looked grotesquely unreal. almost everybody was shouting wildly. many carried open bottles: their eyes were wide and glittering. an old man sat in the gutter laughing horribly and shouting indecencies to people as they passed. some of the smaller shops had been broken open, and looting proceeded apace.

the fire strode about the city like a giant. it littered young pythons of fire that glided subterraneously hither and thither and set a red doom on old wooden warehouses and shops. it stretched quivering tongues of flame across the streets and knit up one quarter of the town with another. it triumphed scarletly in the night and, pushing violently against lofty walls of brick and stone, sent them rattling to the ground.

“it is a good night for everyone except the insurance companies,” said mrs. knumf, complacently.

but when they stepped from the carriage on to the road, a gust of hot air carried to them the brain-sickening smell of burnt flesh.

“a good many people will be missing to-morrow,” remarked tansy.

“i suppose hell’s a bit like this,” was all that adolph found t{151}o say.

half-an-hour later the two girls were escorted by mrs. knumf to the discreet, private entrance to the brothel. they had been rescued with the utmost difficulty, and both of them were now shaken and a little distraught.

“you would like to rest, i’m sure,” said mrs. knumf, leading the way to a double-bedded room.

“you are very kind,” said marie, looking at her a little distrustfully. then she turned to her sister who was seated on the edge of one of the beds, trembling a little.

“undress yourself, dear,” she said, “we will stay here until the morning.”

“you will have some refreshment first?” asked mrs. knumf.

but marie refused, and the woman, walking quickly to the door, vanished. almost immediately, through a second door on the opposite side of the room, adolph and tansy entered.

“well, ladies,” said adolph, looking keenly at marie, “it was a narrow escape, wasn’t it?”

“yes,” answered marie, impulsively; “we owe you our lives. we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

she moved over towards alys as though to protect her.

adolph suddenly lurched forward.

“well, you’re pretty well beat, {152}i should think,” he said; “what about a bottle of wine?”

“oh, no! indeed, no!” protested marie, standing by alys’ side, and placing a hand upon her shoulder. “we only want to be left in peace.”

“oh! but you must!” said adolph. “mustn’t they, tansy?”

“of course they musht,” said tansy, eagerly. “ring for wine. champagne’s the stuff: we’ve plenty of it.”

marie suddenly made up her mind.

“my sister is ill—can’t you see she is? i beg you to leave us. you have been very good to us: we are both grateful to you: do not spoil everything by thrusting upon us further kindness that ... that is not to be endured.”

“she’s right,” said tansy, with drunken conviction, “absholutely right. what did i say? ‘leave ’em a bit': thash what i said. leave ’em to simmer down. now isn’t that just what i said?”

“very well,” said adolph. “if you want anything, just ring. mrs. knumf will attend to you.”

they left the room by the door through which they had entered, and marie heard the key turn in the lock.

she turned to alys bravely.

“get into bed, little one,” she said, “i will sleep with you.”

two gilt candelabra, each holding half a dozen lighted candles, illuminated the room. marie examined the room with apprehensive eyes. there were no windows: only bare walls faced her on every side. near the ceiling, on one side of the ro{153}om, were three ventilators. she crept to the door through which mrs. knumf had left the room and softly turned the handle: it was locked.

without a word and with a faint smile she approached alys.

“do not take your clothes off,” she said; “let us sleep as we are.”

leaving the candles still burning, she lay down by her sister. folded in each other’s arms, they lay for a long time without sleeping. vague noises, whether in the house or not they could not tell, disturbed them from time to time.

“the fire’s coming nearer,” whispered alys at length. “i know it is: i feel it is. marie, let us go away from here: we shall be caught.”

she sat up in bed and looked wildly round the room.

“lie down, little one,” said her sister, soothingly, as, rising on to her knees, she placed her arm round alys’ waist. “we can do nothing till the morning. lie down in my arms. you are quite safe.”

but alys’ instinct was right. the fire was spreading with incredible rapidity, and even now was within a few yards of the brothel. the vague noises grew louder and more sinister.

both the girls were in that condition which is neither sleep nor wakefulness when one of the doors quietly opened and adolph and tansy entered. the former, after rapidly glancing at both the beds, locked the door, pocketed the key, went to the nearest candelabrum and extinguished all the candles it contained.{154}

marie, holding her sister’s hand, slipped out of bed.

“leave those other candles alone,” she commanded.

“we have come for our reward,” said adolph, thickly.

tansy seated himself on the table and made himself steady by placing his hands on the table on either side of him; even with this support he swayed a little. alys had also risen from the bed; she now stood by her sister’s side.

“what do you want?” asked marie.

“well, aren’t you going to rest?” asked adolph. “let me help you to undress.”

but instead of approaching marie, he lurched towards the younger sister and placed a cruel, beautiful hand upon her arm. alys winced as though her head had been struck with a whip. for a moment, marie hesitated: then her fist shot out and caught adolph between the eyes. he staggered and fell, but on the instant rose to his feet.

“come on, tansy,” he called, mad with drink and lust; “it’s going to be a fight—it’s got to be one.”

tansy, abandoning the support of the table, rushed blindly on to the two girls, his bestial face alive with cruelty. alys, sick and faint with horror, fell to the floor.

“she’s mine!” shouted adol{155}ph, dropping on his knees by her side and bending over her.

“let her alone! let her alone!” shouted marie, ceasing to struggle with tansy in whose ape-like arms she was imprisoned. “take me—both of you. do what you like with me—only leave her untouched.”

but adolph answered her with an insane, triumphant laugh.

“you belong to tansy,” he said, and raising alys from the floor, he carried her to one of the beds.

a great accession of strength seemed to flow through marie’s body and limbs from her brain; her excitement and terror were inexhaustible sources of energy. with a superhuman effort, she released herself from tansy’s grasp, and rushed like a flame across the room to the bed on which alys, only half-conscious, was now stretched. throwing herself upon adolph from behind, she put her long fingers about his throat, and it appeared to her as though her will to destroy pumped wave after wave of power along her shoulders, down her arms, and into her fingers, and made them stronger than steel. the man, half turning, struck her several blows upon her face; but she felt nothing. tansy, in attempting to pursue her, had stumbled over a chair, crushing his head against a corner of the table. he now lay on the floor, moaning.

it was while marie’s fingers were still about adolph’s throat that she became conscious of dull explosive sounds immediately outside one of the doors. at the same moment some one began to attempt to force an entrance through the oth{156}er door. a voice shouted excitedly, warningly. but marie still clung to her victim until all the strength left his limbs and he fell to the floor. a key rolled out of one of his pockets. she tried to pick it up, but a sudden faintness overcame her, and she sat on the edge of the bed unable to move, her head light and empty, her legs trembling with the utmost violence.

as one who dreams, she heard a great blow upon the door from beyond which the strange explosive noises had been coming, and with unbelieving eyes she saw the door fall inwards, torn from its hinges by a great beam that had fallen against it. an inexhaustible cloud of black smoke rushed into the room, almost suffocating her; with the smoke came a wave of heat and the noisy crackle of burning wood. the excited warning voice at the second door had ceased to shout.

all marie’s senses were incredulous of her approaching doom. she gazed on her surroundings with the detachment of an onlooker who was not directly affected by those surroundings. she said to herself: “if alys and i don’t escape soon—now—we shall be burned alive.” but still she did not move. she could not. she tried to lift her arm, but it remained inert on the bed. she attempted to speak to her sister, but no sound came from her lips....

the fire came roaring down the passage and entered the room. it was so hot that marie felt her skin was being scorched. the horror of dying in flames seemed to her much less dreadful th{157}an the horror from which she had just escaped. yet it would now be a comparatively easy matter to get away if only she could move. her heart was beating violently, and her breath came and went most stormily. with a supreme effort she gathered all the forces of her mind together and concentrated them, willing herself to move; in response to this effort, her body rose from the bed and began to obey her wishes. her hand picked up the key from the floor, her arms folded themselves about her sister and half-dragged, half-carried her to the second door. she fitted the key into the lock and turned it. in a second the door was open, and she and her sister were in the passage.

the door banged to after them, imprisoning the two half-conscious evil men.

with many intervals for rest, marie carried her sister to the end of the passage and out into the open air. the brothel was almost surrounded by fire: another five minutes, and she would have been too late. as she emerged into the street and looked around her, she saw it was deserted. no one in salonika was interested in the burning of a brothel when great hotels, huge warehouses, and fine palaces were being destroyed. and degraded women are but poor loot when compared with jewels and drink.

as for adolph and tansy....