"Pull and shake as he would, the iron seemed to remain firm in its socket." p. 211
Glancing first at the door, then at the window, he quickly made up his mind as to the best course to adopt. Smoke was already penetrating the cracks of the doorway. If he were to escape, it must be through the window. At that instant he thought of poor old Hakesh, and wondered what was happening to him. Where was he? Did they intend to roast him too?
"The inhuman devils!" he cried, as these thoughts flashed through his mind. He forgot about his own safety for the moment, as his mind wandered to the old priest. A flash of light through the crack of the door brought him back to his own position, and seizing the iron bars of the window with both hands he heaved and shook at them till the wall rocked, but they gave not an inch.
Gasping for breath, his hands sore with his terrible grip on the iron, he paused for a moment and cast about in his mind for a new idea. No other means of escape presented itself, so with the energy of despair he flung himself again on the rough iron. The room was rapidly filling with smoke, and he already found difficulty in breathing.
Pull and shake as he would, the iron seemed to remain firm in its socket, and he was about to cease his efforts, when he noticed that the mud wall that held it was cracked, and hope again filled him.
Leaving the bars for a moment he picked up a narrow piece of wood and jammed it as far as possible into the crack, then seizing the bar with one hand, he drew himself up and, placing his feet against the wall, pulled with all his strength. The wall opened out, and he drove the wedge far into the crack with his disengaged hand, and once more dropped to the ground.
The fire was rapidly increasing, the room was filled with blinding, choking smoke, and he became at once convinced that he had not many moments to spare before the fire would be upon him. One thing seemed certain, that, whoever had set light to the place must have been ignorant of his whereabouts in the building, or they intended to let the process of cooking him be slow. To what refinement had they brought their art of torture!
Seizing the iron bars again, he set to work. The wood he had inserted held the crack open, and the bar, now under the terrific power he used, began to move about. For two minutes he worked incessantly, every moment bringing the chance of escape nearer. With feverish anxiety he watched the loosening bar. Once he looked round; the flames were lapping the door, and the hissing, crackling of the fire sounded in every direction.
Again turning to his work, he gave one supreme wrench at the obstinate iron, and with a crack it yielded, flinging him to the floor. A lot of the brickwork had come away with the bar, and, as he sprang to his feet, he saw that in releasing one of the iron bars he had torn away sufficient of the wall to free the others. He tore them from their place in a flash, and at last the window was clear of obstruction.