It took a long time for Chick to get out the first spike, but he conquered the second one much quicker. He had to use the biggest blade of his knife to cut away the wood around the spikes, as well as the steel pliers. But he persisted, and victory came in each case. With all his energy, it was two hours before Chick had drawn out the last of the heavy spikes. Then he could not move the door. There were slats of wood nailed in on both sides. That meant another hour. He had been encouraged through his work by Marcos, who smoked cigarettes incessantly, and occasionally begged Chick to accept one through the hole in the wall. But Chick was not much of a smoker at any time. Just now, when he was earnestly at work, he could not be bothered with a cigarette or anything else in the smoking line. So he thanked the prince and declined until both should be outside. Everything which appeared to hold the door was out of the way at last, and Chick felt that the moment for decisive action had come. “I’ll get a hold on this side with my knife,” he told Marcos. “When I say ‘Shove!’ put all your weight against the door, and I’ll pull at the same time. Understand that?” “Perfectly!” was the prince’s drawling reply. Chick drove the big blade of his knife diagonally into the wood, point downward, until it held firmly. This gave him some power to pull, although not so much as he would have liked. “I can’t help much,” he explained. “You’ll have to do most of it by your weight. Now! Let her go!” Chick tugged at the handle of the knife, and, at the same instant, Marcos charged against the door with one of his brawny shoulders. He used all the weight and power he could throw into the effort. There was a cracking, followed quickly by a smash, and down came the ponderous wooden door to the ground. Chick jumped out of the way just in time to avoid going down underneath. He had been prepared for the sudden falling of the heavy mass of wood, and had timed his movements exactly. As the door went down, Marcos walked through the opening and held out his hand to Chick. The two men shook hands gravely. “Infernally dark in here!” observed Marcos. “But I don’t think it is night yet.” “No,” returned Chick. “I wish it were. We should have a better chance of getting away. What is your plan? I suppose you have one?” “Certainly!” answered Marcos, with his customary coolness. “There is a ladder in the far corner of my cellar. At the top is a trapdoor. I have tried to open it. I can make it crack and strain, but I haven’t quite enough strength to push it up altogether.” “The two of us can do it, probably,” suggested Chick. “That’s my idea. Once we get through that trap, I don’t know what we shall meet. We shall have to take chances on that. I’m going to start for Joyalita to-night.” The calm confidence with which Prince Marcos said this delighted Chick.