“Back at a spring, just west of the city. I hope he got my message. I tried to tell him—he was hiding, but I’m sure he could hear us—that if we weren’t back in four hours then we’d been led into a trap.” Biff’s words rushed out in one jumbled sentence.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard yet, Biff. Muscles is a good operator.”
“But what could he do? He’d be spotted in a minute,” Biff said.
“Haven’t got the answer to that one,” Uncle Charlie replied. “But I’d bet on Muscles in any situation. He bulldogs in where angels fear to tread.”
The morning hours dragged. As noon approached, Biff became more and more restless.
“Wish something would happen—anything! I wonder why Ping Lu hasn’t sent for us?”
“Playing a waiting game, Biff,” his uncle replied. “The longer he keeps us here with no word, the more tense and nervous we’ll get. He knows that. Uncertainty, waiting, not knowing what move the enemy will make next is one of the surest ways of making a man reach his breaking point. And your being here, he reasons, will make me twice as jittery.”
The hour of noon came and passed. No one came to the prison room. Biff was wondering how near his breaking point was when, shortly after one o’clock, the now familiar rasp of a key in the door was heard.
“Make it be the Ancient One’s grandson,” Biff said half aloud. The others were praying for the same thing.
The door swung inward. Whether the new servant was the grandson, Biff didn’t know. But it was a different man. He brought a tray of food over and placed it beside Tao Kwang. Biff thought he saw the man’s lips move, but he couldn’t be sure. The servant left. The door was locked behind him. Biff looked at Chuba. “Did he say anything? Ask the Ancient One.”