Hill and I smiled—we could not help it.
“I give it up,” the Colonel repeated, with great sternness.
I spoke with all the gravity I could muster.
“Sir,” I said, “I give you my word that since I came to Yozgad I have had no communication by speech or writing direct or indirect with anyone in Turkey outside the camp, except the Turkish officials. Nor have I ever attempted any communication with the inhabitants by any other means than telepathy.”
“That is good enough for me,” said the Colonel brightly. “Now to avoid getting the camp into trouble, will you agree while you remain in this camp not to attempt conscious telepathy or other communication with any outsiders? I don’t mean any ordinary open conversation—you know what I mean, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said I, and gave the promise he wanted. Then I glanced across at Hill. The Colonel was looking pleased and the time seemed propitious.
“Sir,” said Hill, “I want to take back the parole I gave to your predecessor—not to escape.”
The Colonel frowned again. “Why?” said he.
“Because Jones and I are going to be separately confined from the rest of the camp. I want to be free to escape if I want to.”
“Hum!” said the Colonel.