Part 45 (2/2)
”Wind--that is all I asked,” he said. ”A storm, a moonless night, and a little luck. If I could have got on board the felucca with you and cut her from her moorings, we would have played a deal with Fate then. We would have enlisted her on our side, to take us where she willed.”
Her eyes grew vivid with hope and with anxiety.
”But to get on board? We are locked in at night, bolted. And those dogs of theirs are loose.”
”That is it--they are loose,” he said. ”A few handfuls of food saved and we can attract them to the window, and they will be quiet enough when they are fed. It is merely a question of the getting out.”
”And how?”
He pointed to a corner of the unmorticed wall.
”Their bars are sound enough, their bolts are out of reach of our tampering. But the building itself? Its foundations date from the days of Augustus, as likely as not. At night, while you slept, I tried its stability, course by course. It was in that corner that I found the weak spot. The lower stone I can remove at will. The one above it will fall when the support of the first is removed. And I put pressure enough on to the outer stones to know that a strong effort will thrust them away.
The road is open, when we choose to take it.”
She clapped her hands softly. Her face glowed.
”Why not now?” she cried. ”Why not choose the pa.s.sing of a s.h.i.+p and then signal--as you signalled to the torpedo boat?”
He shook his head.
”A wars.h.i.+p is one thing,” he objected, ”a merchant s.h.i.+p another. We should be poising our all on the intelligence of a look-out-man who would be scanning the water, not the land, or of a third officer who might not know the code international.”
She sighed.
”So we wait,” she said despondently.
”So we wait,” he agreed. ”But not for long.” He was looking westward at the sky.
”You see something?” she said quickly. ”What?”
”Wind clouds,” he answered. ”Cirrus. Fate may be making her preparations for to-night.”
”To-night?” She repeated the word faintly, incredulously. ”I wonder,”
she said slowly. ”I wonder if, after all my yearning for action, I shall--be brave when it really comes to--to-night?”
He looked down at her.
”And I?” he said. ”Have I as good a chance as you to show courage?”
”You?” she answered wonderingly. ”You are a man.”
”Yes,” he answered. ”I am a man. And you, a woman, are dependent on me and I am taking you into perils that I can only guess at, dangers that lie absolutely in the hands of chance. For which of us is it easiest to be brave, you or me?”
Her eyes dropped from his.
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