As a matter of fact, the crafty Esbul had been even more successful than he had anticipated, than he could have hoped, considering the difficulties of the situation. Having clambered over the walls of the compound which surrounded the quarters in which the German usually lived, and to which he had returned after that visit to the prison in which Geoff and Philip had been incarcerated, Esbul, as we have learned already, had found not a light, not an illuminated chink, not a sound, nothing to guide him as to whether von Hildemaller were there or not, or whether he had merely come back to go out again promptly. Yet Esbul was a knowing fellow, and gifted with an abundance of patience. Passing round the house, he reached a point where a wall enclosed a small yard within it, and, clambering on this, was able to reach the roof--a flat affair, on which the owner could rest and sleep, if need be, in the hot weather. Still, there was no sign of the German, not a sound to betray his presence. Esbul crept about the place, peeped over the parapet, laid his ear on the roof, and yet was baffled. Then, by a lucky chance, he went to the only chimney of which the place boasted, and, peering down it, saw a light far below, and heard voices. More than that, he found soon enough, or rather guessed, that this chimney was merely a ventilator for some chamber in which people were talking, in which von Hildemaller, without doubt, was seated. More startling still was the discovery that sounds were accentuated by the chimney, were gathered together as it were, and were delivered to his ear louder, perhaps, than when uttered by those far below him. In that way, then, by a mere stroke of luck, by a fortunate chance, more fortunate perhaps than his accidental meeting with Geoff and Philip that night, the Armenian had unearthed the secrets of the German. There was silence in the tiny room beneath the guttering candle for some few minutes, while two busy brains were hard at work piecing up the information given them, concocting plans, and seeking for measures to outwit von Hildemaller. Two busy brains, we have said, though no doubt Esbul's wits were sharpened. As for Benshi, he still sat on his divan, his eyes wandering over the opposite wall, his face--long, thin, ascetic, and angular--with not an expression on it. He might have been a wooden figure for all they knew, a silent, thoughtless figure. And yet the old man had already given indications of possessing unusual wisdom and acumen--of possessing, indeed, uncanny powers of looking into the future. It was he, in fact, who first broke that silence, and who, in the most amazing manner, seemed to have divined the very thoughts of Geoff and Philip.