“After a lot of reflection, I decided to go alone to the foot of the cliff. I went. I meant to take Tester, but at the last I forgot. I found the rope gone and imagined you’d pulled it up. At ten o’clock something fell down about ten yards from where I stood. As I bent over it, somebody laid me out. …
“Well, there you are.”
“The next thing I knew I was lying in the back of the Rolls, which was doing forty over a wicked road. Then I was taken out and hauled through a ground-floor window into the Castle of Gath.”
“Of course it was easy. When the servants heard the Rolls coming, they thought it was me. They probably thought it odd that I should drive on up to Gath, but, before they’d scented the trouble, the fat was burnt.”
As I bent again to the windlass, my mind was full.
Not only was Rose Noble’s foresight a fearsome thing, but the fellow was very well served. Punter and Bunch and Casemate had done uncommonly well. But what struck me most of all was that, though their car had been ruined and the Rolls was at their gate, the temptation to take her inside had been withstood. That for this resolution we had Rose Noble to thank, I have no doubt: the others would scarce have renounced so handsome a prize. Yet, had we seen the Rolls in the archway, the sight would have told us that George was out of the running, and Adèle would not have been delivered into the enemy’s hand. This was the pink of strategy—the casting away of a sceptre to win a crown: and I must confess a sudden, craven fear that we should never outwit a man so firm of purpose and so unearthly wise.
The gurgle of water in the kitchen came from a little well. This had been sunk in the floor and was fed by a pipe which clearly ran out of the channel we knew so well. A similar pipe was conducting the overflow. By this simple device, the cooks had always fresh water ready to hand, and, what is more to the point, poor George was able to drink and to bathe his aching jaws. Then we plied him with brandy and made him eat what there was, for, though he made light of his bondage, a man cannot suffer as he had and feel as sound the same night.
While he was eating and drinking, we laid our plans.
That the servants were close at hand we had no doubt. Indeed, it seemed certain that they would any moment attack. If they did so before we could reach them, they would assuredly fail, for, for one thing only, they would enter by way of the roof, which the enemy was holding against our escape from the suite. They would thus walk clean into a trap, of which we, below, could not warn them, because we could not climb up. We, therefore, determined to make at once for the gate and, opening this if we could, to bring them in. If we could contrive to do this without being seen or heard, we should for the first time have the advantage of the enemy, for, whilst they were sure that they had but two men to deal with, and those under lock and key, in fact there would be six men free and within their camp.
The kitchen-door was unlocked and yielded without any fuss.
As we looked into the courtyard, hardly daring to breathe, the beam of a torch swept the wall beneath which we stood. It was little more than a flash and came, as before, from above; but it showed that the passage windows were still being watched. We had expected no less, but, although the beam was directed upon the wall, it lighted quite twenty feet of the courtyard itself, and, unless we could cross this belt between the flashes, we could not fail to be seen.
“No good waiting,” breathed Mansel. “We must go across one by one. The first twenty feet on foot and as hard as we can: then, down on your face and crawl the rest of the way. If we go lightly, the water will cover our noise. Chandos first. Wait for me in the porch: I may be a little time coming, because I must shut this door. And now stand by.”
Whilst he was speaking, the flashes came and went, but at intervals so irregular that no observation could help us, and we had nothing to do but to take our chance.
At last Mansel gave the word, and I made my dash.
As I fell on my face, a flicker lit up the courtyard. …
Ten minutes later we were all three in the porch.
The wicket-gate was locked, and its key was gone. We, therefore, made ready to open the great gate itself, using the greatest care to make no sound. And here, to our vexation, we met with another check. Though we could feel the great bolts, we could not make out how to draw them, for each was engaged with some catch which we could not release. It was dreadful to stand there fumbling, because of some simple holdfast never devised to embarrass a porter’s hand, but intended to prevent the bolts turning under battery of the gate. Yet show a light we dared not: and, as the minutes went by and the catch still mocked our fingers for want of sight, I began to feel that Fortune was not so much frowning upon us as laughing at us in her sleeve.
Then Mansel gave a short sigh and drew his bolt, and a moment later his fingers were playing with mine.
As the door yielded, he put his mouth to my
