Another day was spent in anxious waiting, but this time we were not destined to be disappointed. About eight o’clock that night, just as we were giving up hope, I detected a faint noise near my feet; it was for all the world as if someone were forcing a stick through a hole in a brick wall. I informed Beckenham of the fact in a whisper, and then put my head down to listen. Yes, there was the sound again. Oh, if only I had a match! But it was no use wishing for what was impossible, so I put my hand down to the pipe. It was moving! It turned in my hand, moved to and fro for a brief space and then disappeared from my grasp entirely; next moment it had left the room. A few seconds later something cold was thrust into my hand, and from its rough edge I knew it to be a file. I drew it out as if it were made of gold and thrust it into my pocket. A piece of string was attached to it, and the reason of this I was at first at some loss to account for. But a moment’s reflection told me that it was to assist in the fulfilment of our share of the bargain. So, taking a five-pound note from the secret pocket in which I carried my paper money, I tied the string to it, and it was instantly withdrawn.
A minute could not have elapsed before I was at work upon the staple of my collar, and in less than half an hour it was filed through and the iron was off my neck.
If I tried for a year I could not make you understand what a relief it was to me to stand upright. I stretched myself again and again, and then crossed the room on tiptoe in the dark to where the Marquis lay.
“You are free!” he whispered, clutching and shaking my hand. “Oh, thank God!”
“Hush! Put down your head and let me get to work upon your collar before you say anything more.”
As I was able this time to get at my work standing up, it was not very long before Beckenham was as free as I was. He rose to his feet with a great sigh of relief, and we shook hands warmly in the dark.
“Now,” I said, leading him towards the door, “we will make our escape, and I pity the man who attempts to stop us.”
IX
Dr. Nikola Permits Us a Free Passage
The old saying, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” is as good a warning as any I know. Certainly it proved so in our case. For if we had not been so completely occupied filing through the staples of our collars we should not have omitted to take into consideration the fact that, even when we should have removed the chains that bound us, we would still be prisoners in the room. I’m very much afraid, however, even had we remembered this point, we should only have considered it of minor importance and one to be easily overcome. As it was, the unwelcome fact remained that the door was locked, and, what was worse, that the lock itself had, for security’s sake, been placed on the outside, so that there was no chance of our being able to pick it, even had our accomplishments lain in that direction. “Try the window,” whispered Beckenham, in answer to the heavy sigh which followed my last discovery.
Accordingly we crossed the room, and I put my hands upon one of the boards and pulled. But I might as well have tried to tow a troopship with a piece of cotton, for all the satisfactory result I got; the planks were trebly screwed to the window frame, and each in turn defied me. When I was tired Beckenham put his strength to it, but even our united efforts were of no avail, and, panting and exhausted, we were at length obliged to give it up as hopeless.
“This is a pretty fix we’ve got ourselves into,” I said as soon as I had recovered sufficient breath to speak. “We can’t remain here, and yet how on earth are we to escape?”
“I can’t say, unless we manage to burst that door open and fight our way out. I wonder if that could be done.”
“First, let’s look at the door.”
We crossed the room again, and I examined the door carefully with my fingers. It was not a very strong one; but I was sufficient of a carpenter to know that it would withstand a good deal of pressure before it would give way.
“I’ve a good mind to try it,” I said; “but in that case, remember, it will probably mean a hand-to-hand fight on the other side, and, unarmed and weak as we are, we shall be pretty sure to get the worst of it.”
“Never mind that,” my intrepid companion replied, with a confidence in his voice that I was very far from feeling. “In for a penny, in for a pound; even if we’re killed it couldn’t be worse than being buried alive in here.”
“That’s so, and if fighting’s your idea, I’m your man,” I answered. “Let me first take my bearings, and then I’ll see what I can do against it. You get out of the way, but be sure to stand by to
