A Prince to Order

by Charles Stokes Wayne

With a single bound he reached the floor, and the next instant he was reading with eager interest the pencilled words:

“Write what you wish to say, attach it, pull gently twice, and we will raise it.”

“Johann,” he cried, enthusiastically, “see this! If those fellows have as much nerve as they have wit we’ll soon be out of here, all right.”

And while Johann read and smiled his approval Grey sat down and wrote.

For an hour or more questions and answers, propositions and suggestions, went back and forth from floor to floor by means of this novel line of communication, and by the end of that time a complete scheme of escape with all its details had been arranged and was mutually understood.

There were two prisoners above—a gentleman and his man; just as there were two prisoners below—a gentleman and his man. Who the two gentlemen were was not asked by either. That they were guarded in the Flag Tower was proof that their offences were political merely. Nevertheless, the two gentlemen resented the indignity put upon them, and both were anxious to escape. The two men were loyal to their masters and could be depended upon to act with valour. The gentleman above was unarmed, but the gentleman below had a revolver. The time agreed upon for the delivery was two o’clock in the morning. As that hour sounded from the Bell Tower the guards on their respective floors were to be called in on some pretext, overpowered and stripped of their uniforms, which would be donned by the two gentlemen. Their weapons would be appropriated, likewise, and thus disguised and armed it would be comparatively easy to make captive the guard on the first landing. There would then remain but the four soldiers outside the Tower, and the chances of their subduing were largely in favour of the prisoners, three of whom would by this time be as well equipped as the watch, while the fourth would have Grey’s revolver. The advantage is invariably with the surprising party, and the plan was to take the guardsmen unawares and effect their capture before they were even conscious of attack.

All this having been definitely decided on there was nothing to do but wait, and the hours, for Grey at least, dragged interminably. Again and again at intervals he rehearsed the plan with Johann, so that there could be no possible chance of error, but this after a while grew monotonous and he looked about for something interesting to read. The books he found in the library, however, were not diverting. They were for the most part historical and written in the heaviest of German; nevertheless their very ponderousness was in a way an advantage. They provoked somnolence, and late in the afternoon the uninterested reader fell asleep and was so snugly wrapped in slumber when his dinner was brought in that Johann found it a rather difficult task to rouse him. He had slept but little the night before, and his rest on the train the night previous to that had been broken and fitful. His nerves needed just this repose, and when he finally awakened it was with a clearer eye and a steadier hand. He ate heartily of the distinctively Teutonic dishes that were provided, and when he finished he remarked to Johann on his general fitness, indulging in an Americanism which the valet vainly tried to interpret.

“I feel tonight, Johann,” he said, stretching himself with arms extended and fists doubled, “that I could lick my weight in wildcats and paint whole townships red.”

As the hours wore away he sat with one leg thrown over the arm of his chair, smoking placidly and with evident enjoyment. It was not until some time after the Bell Tower had bellowed its single note that Grey alluded to the business of the night.

“Everything is ready, is it, Johann?” he asked; “where are the thongs you made from the sheet?”