Part 47 (1/2)

”I'm a different man,” Desmond said. ”If I have to run to-night, then the man that tries to catch me will have to do it with a bullet!”

”That's likely enough,” Jim said, laughing. ”Well, come and see how we're going to get out.”

There seemed little enough chance, as they searched from floor to floor. The great door was strong enough to resist ten men; the windows were only slits, far too narrow to allow them to pa.s.s through, even had they dared risk the noise of breaking their thick gla.s.s. Up and up they went, their hearts sinking as their bodies mounted; seeing no possible way of leaving their round prison.

”Rats in a trap!” said Desmond. ”There's nothing for it but those beastly barrels again--and to watch our chance of settling Emil and his pal when they come to-morrow.”

”Let's look out here,” Jim said.

They were at the top of the mill, in a little circular place, barely large enough for them to stand upright. A low door opened upon a tiny platform with a railing, from which the great sails could be worked; they were back now, but the wind was rising, and they creaked and strained at their mooring rope. Far below the silver sheet of the Rhine moved sluggishly, gleaming in the moonlight. The blockhouses stood out sharply on either bank.

”Wonder if they can see us as plainly as we see them,” Jim said.

”We'll have callers here presently if they can,” Desmond said. ”That, at least, is certain. Better come in, Jim.”

Jim was looking at the great sails, and then at the rope that moored them.

”Wait half a minute,” he said.

He dived into the mill, and returned almost instantly with a small coil of rope.

”I noticed this when we came up,” he said. ”It didn't seem long enough to be any use by itself, but if we tie it to this mooring-rope it might be long enough.”

”To reach the ground from here?” Desmond asked him in astonishment.

”Never! You're dreaming, Jim.”

”Not from here, of course,” Jim said. ”But from the end of the sail.”

”The sail!” Desmond echoed.

”If we tie it to the end of the sail's rope, and let the mill go, we can swing out one at a time,” Jim said. ”Bit of a drop at the bottom, of course, but I don't think it would be too much, if we wait till our sail points straight down.”

”But----” Desmond hesitated. ”The sail may not bear any weight--neither may the rope itself.”

”The ropes seem good enough--they're light, but strong,” Jim said.

”As for the sail--well, it looks pretty tough; the framework is iron.

We can haul on it and test it a bit. I'd sooner risk it than be caught here, old man.”

”Well--I'm going first,” Desmond said.

”That you're not--it's my own little patent idea,” Jim retorted.

”Just you play fair, you old reprobate. Look--they keep a sort of boathook thing here, to catch the rope when the arm is turning--very thoughtful and handy. You'll easily get it back with that.”

He was knotting the two ropes as he spoke, testing them with all his strength.

”There--that will hold,” he said. ”Now we'll let her go.”

He untied the mooring-rope, and very slowly the great sails began to revolve. They tugged violently as the arm bearing the rope mounted, and drew it back; it creaked and groaned, but the rope held, and nothing gave way. Jim turned his face to Desmond on the narrow platform.