“Trying is not enough,” said Chester. “You’ve got to get ’em!”
“All right, then,” replied Hal, “I’ll get ’em!”
Since the two lads had been guests, or prisoners, in the Strauss home, a detail of soldiers had been stationed around the house, with orders not to let either of the lads pass unless accompanied by either the lieutenant or the general. The boys had been given the freedom of the house. The lieutenant had demurred at the placing of a guard around the house, saying that there was not the slightest chance of the boys escaping, anyhow, but the general had held out on that point, remarking:
“I know these Americans better than you do. They’re slippery. You have to watch them closely, or they will slip between your very fingers.”
Choosing a moment when the lieutenant had left the house, Hal slipped unobserved into his room. He knew the uniforms hung in a closet.
He approached and tried the knob. The door was locked.
“It’s up to me to see if I can’t pick that lock,” he told himself, and set to work with what improvised little tools he could bring from his pocket.
In vain he worked. He could not pick the lock. He stepped back and viewed the door, meantime keeping his ear cocked for sound of footsteps from without. Then an idea struck him.
Using his knife as a screwdriver, he removed the hinges from the door. A moment later he was inside the closet. Quickly selecting two of the lieutenant’s uniforms, he laid them on a chair, and hurriedly put back the door and tightened the bolts.
Then, holding the uniforms behind him, he made his way back to his own room, where he threw the uniforms under the bed. Chester was not there.