For a Turk that may be good enough, sufficient exercise both for mind and body; but the fresh blood, the keen intellect, the wonderful energy of Anglo-Saxons require more movement, require some better pabulum for their thoughts—something far more stimulating—and they find it in active, open-air exercise, in the seeing of interest in all things, and in the taking of energetic steps which may bring into motion every joint, every muscle, and every fibre of their bodies. Thus what appeared to be a form of increasing mania in Geoff and Philip in the eyes of their jailer and of the man who accompanied him on occasion, who both of them stared, amazed—though they had now seen those curious actions of their two prisoners on many occasions—was no more strange and astonishing to them than were the sloth, the ease, and the aimless existence of the Turks to our two heroes.
See the result of this extraordinary mania on the part of Geoff and Philip. The hours began to glide away. The days fled as if there was some driving force behind them, and slid by at such a rate that a week was gone before they could look round, while week piled on week in rapid succession. Nor was that the only advantage obtained by these two energetic and restless prisoners. Little by little their colour came back, till they were rosy in spite of those four blank walls about them; and little by little their muscles hardened, their joints became more flexible and elastic, and their strength increased to a point at which both of them, in spite of their moderately heavy build, threatened to become young Samsons. Little did the grinning jailer realize that, whereas he might have proved an easy victim of these two, attacking him together, at the commencement of their captivity, he would now be but as a child in the arms of one; for Geoff's fingers alone had become so powerful that he could have taken the Turk by the neck and shaken the life out of him single-handed.
"I think, old boy, that the jailer won't stand a dog's chance when we get busy," he told Philip.
"And I believe you, dear chap," grinned his chum, "only——" And then Philip's face lengthened till it had attained the length of the proverbial fiddle, "only this waiting is all rot. I believe myself that that beggar of a jailer suspects us. He's been awfully decent, of course, in bringing us food and water, but, all the same, he's got it into his narrow head that we mean to tackle him on the first occasion."
It was Geoff's turn to grin—a happy grin—for the exercise had improved his digestion, and had brought him to a position where he might be said to be in the pink of health, and therefore looked on the bright side of everything.
"I believe you, dear boy," he said, repeating Philip's statement. "As to when the chance will come, well, who knows? Only we are ready."
They spent that afternoon in carefully devising a gag and ropes, which they obtained by tearing strips off the blankets which had been provided for their covering; and then counted out the sum of money which, though not very great, was likely to prove a small fortune to the jailer. In fact, they had not yet completed their preparations when steps were heard in the corridor outside and halted at the doorway.
"Ready?" asked Geoff.
Philip nodded, and, sauntering to the corner of the cell, placed himself in a position which would allow him to throw himself on the back of the jailer. Geoff crushed the gag into his trouser pocket, and stood, as he had often stood before, facing the door, waiting for it to open. The bolts were pulled back with a clang, and slowly the heavy iron frame-door was pushed open, disclosing the smiling, friendly face of the jailer at first, and then a second individual—a stout, fat, heavily-built man, dressed in the loosest of European clothing, who mopped his streaming forehead with a red silk handkerchief, who panted and grunted, who blew gusts of air out of a mouth which was out of all proportion, from between two irregular rows of yellow teeth, hidden almost entirely by a moustache, which flowed on either side of his fat cheeks, and which was stained by cigarette smoke in the middle. More than that, the man wore on his head a panama hat which shaded his features, the exact expression of which was made all the more indistinguishable by the dusk already settling in the corridor, but which could yet be seen to be more pallid, of a whiter hue, than was common to the Turkish nation. It was no Turk in fact; it was a European, and none other than a German. More than that, what German in the heart of Mesopotamia could have answered to such a description as that above delineated but von Hildemaller? Yes, it was that urbane and kindly fellow, that perspiring, panting individual, that emissary of the Kaiser who dealt ostensibly in dates, but clandestinely in political matters. It was the garrulous, the charming, and the most entertaining Herr von Hildemaller, that cunning, scheming, unscrupulous wretch who had been instrumental in obtaining the imprisonment of Joe Douglas.
No wonder that Geoff stared at this apparition as though it were a ghost, a well-grown, beefy, and extremely solid ghost to be sure, yet one which filled him with amazement. No wonder, too, that Philip, after his own particular custom and habit, pursed up his lips and allowed a low-pitched whistle of astonishment to escape him. And then it was von Hildemaller's turn. He grunted, he mopped his forehead and face more violently, and greeted the two, first with a penetrating, suspicious glance, and then with an expansive smile, which took them both in at the same moment as it were, as if he were inordinately proud to meet them.