"Allah, Allah, Allah! Glory be to the Prophet. Hadj Maimoun is free."
By this time the prison was fairly in the hands of the victorious invaders.
One man, however, managed to slip out, and made the best of his way to the town to rouse the pasha and other officials.
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
THE RESCUE OF MOLE.
Mr. Mole's place of incarceration would have been difficult to find in that large rambling old building, had not Jack, by similar threats to those of the Arab chief, forced one of the gaolers to tell him the number of the cell.
Armed with this information and a bunch of keys, Jack made his way to the deepest dungeon, followed by the rest.
Mole's cell was the most remote, and therefore the last they came to.
"Mercy, mercy! don't kill an unfortunate prisoner, who has got three wives somewhere about the world, and a lot of little black and white children to look after!" cried Mr. Mole, still confused by the tumult around him, and the ferocious aspect of the new-comers.
"Kill you, Mr. Mole; why, we've come to let you out," said the foremost of the group, and he flung back the cowl of his Moorish cloak, thereby revealing to Mole the startling fact, that instead of a murderous Arab, it was young Jack Harkaway.