On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the TigrisBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Juvenile fiction
"We move!" declared Geoff promptly. "It's getting dusk already, and it's
quite dark in this cell. Though, 'pon my word, von Hildemaller's eyes
pierce the dusk like gimlets. My word! If only he were free and could do
his worst for us! Now let's put the money we promised the Turk on this
table, and then go. No time like the present."
They were indeed in the position of being unable to choose the time for
the attempt to regain their liberty. In any case they were bound to
seize the first opportunity that came, to seize it whenever it came,
regardless of the hour or of the circumstances. But the coming of von
Hildemaller had forced their hand in a manner neither had anticipated.
He had, as it were, complicated their difficulties; for, now that he was
secured, trussed like a bird, and laid out helpless, there was still the
Turkish jailer to be considered--the man they had proposed to capture,
the man who, once shut up in the cell, gagged and triced just as was von
Hildemaller, would be out of the way, unlikely to run up against them in
the corridor outside, unable to give the alarm and let others know that
they were escaping.
"Can't be helped, the change in our plans," said Geoff, as he took
another look at the German; "just squint outside, Phil, and tell me
whether there's anyone in the corridor. If not, we'll pull off our boots
and make our way along it in stockinged feet. Of course, if the jailer
turns up, well, we'll have to be guided by circumstances."
In any case there was no time for discussion, no opportunity for making
further or other plans, nothing to do but seize the opportunity, strike
while the iron was hot, and free themselves from this prison. To strip
off their boots and tuck them into their belts was the work of a moment,
and then, unarmed but strong as lions--thanks to their own forethought
and energy--they tiptoed into the corridor outside and stole rapidly
along it, having gently pulled the iron door of their cell to upon the
German. Some twenty paces along they found themselves at the head of a
short flight of stone steps, and were quickly at the bottom. A turn to
the left took them along another corridor, and then both suddenly
halted.
"Voices--men talking--the jailer."
Philip nodded.
"The jailer and that fellow who often visited us with him. They're in
that room to the left, the door of which is ajar, and the sooner we pass
it the better."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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