Faked Passports by Dennis Wheatley

door. The cottage consisted of only two rooms and the loft above which had been used by the three fugitives during the past fortnight.
    â€œYou two stay here and I’ll take the bedroom in case some of them try to get in through the window there,” said von Lutz, and he left the others abruptly.
    There was only one window in each room and both fronted on the lane; so Gregory felt that they might be able to hold the place for some time if they were careful not to expose themselves unnecessarily, although he knew that sooner or later there could be only one end to such an uneven combat.
    â€œWe must try to draw their fire,” he said to Freddie. “We’ll use that fur-cap that Hans left behind. Put it on the end of that stick and thrust it up under the curtains when I give the word. It will part them just enough to show a streak of light and they’ll see the cap outlined against it.”
    Charlton grabbed the cap and stick and together they crawled across the floor. Gregory put his hand up and felt along the lower part of the window. The Nazis’ bullets had shattered the glass leaving only the empty frame. Very cautiously he poked his shot-gun out of one corner and warily raised his head until he could see along the barrel; then he whispered: “Ready now?”
    Still kneeling on the floor Freddie thrust up the big fur-cap and parted the curtains a little where they met across the centre of the window. Instantly there was a burst of fire and a hail of shots smacked into the cap, knocking the stick on which it was supported out of his hands.
    Gregory had marked the nearest flashes and loosed off both barrels of his gun, hoping for a double. As he ducked back yowls of pain told him that some of his pellets had found a resting-place in human flesh.
    A second later the Nazis brought a sub-machine-gun into action. There was a deafening roar as it sent a stream of lead through the empty window-frame; cutting one of the curtains nearly in half so that the torn part sagged down disclosing a large triangle of the lighted room. With extraordinary daring Freddie raised himself until the bullets were zipping only a fewinches above his head; then, aiming carefully at the perfect target presented by the flame-spitting barrel of the gun, he let the gunner have two rounds from his revolver. There was a loud cry and the firing ceased.
    â€œWell done! Well done!” murmured Gregory. “But for God’s sake don’t try any more of those tricks or you’ll get yourself shot to pieces.”
    â€œWhat’s it matter?” Freddie was crouching on the floor again and turned his head to grin. “We’ll be dead anyway within the next half-hour.”
    Gregory shrugged. “I’m afraid so. Still, we might as well try-to hang out as long as we can.”
    The sound of sharp explosions in the next room told them that von Lutz had come into action and it seemed that the Nazis had turned their attention to the bedroom window. But a moment later bullets descending at a sharp angle began to spatter the floor of the kitchen within a foot of the place where Gregory and Charlton were crouching.
    â€œHell!” whispered Gregory. “One of them’s got up a tree and is firing down on to us. He can see through the rent in the curtain; we must put out that light.”
    With a swift wriggle he scrambled across the floor and, raising his hand, turned down the oil-lamp that was on the kitchen dresser. Instantly the room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the soft glow of the fire.
    The shooting died down again and after a few minutes it ceased altogether. The silence was uncanny after the almost continuous banging of explosions and thudding of bullets that had created pandemonium for the last ten minutes. The Nazis were evidently planning some new form of attack and Gregory anxiously strained his ears for any sounds which might give the first intimation of it.
    Suddenly it came: a rush of