In that instant, if never before, David realised that here was indeed a leader; for the Professor was not in the smallest degree flurried. His cheroot still glimmered redly. He drew in the smoke and blew out huge billows. But all the while he was listening to the sounds above, calculating the chances of his party, thinking how best to act so as to secure their safety.
'Why not?' he suddenly exclaimed aloud. 'It's been done before. Why not again?'
'Pardon, monsieur,' ventured Alphonse, standing beside his master, as if to guard him. 'You spoke.'
'Of something that occurred to me. All in good time, my friend. What do you think of the situation?'
The Frenchman threw up his eyes and shrugged his shoulders in a manner sufficiently expressive. 'Monsieur knows better than I,' he said. 'I shall still live to cook and valet for monsieur.'
'Then you shall if I can contrive it. Ah, there is David. Well?' asked the leader of the party.
'Not a soul forward. It's lighter by a long way,' reported our hero. 'I sneaked on deck, and counted forty-three Chinese over our heads. They are hacking away like madmen.'
'Then we will leave them to it. In five minutes at least they will have broken through into the cabin. Get below and shoulder a box, David. We are following.'
The Professor marshalled his little force into the alley-way, and stepped coolly down the ladder after them. Not one word did he utter to hint what were his intentions. All that his supporters knew was that they were retreating from a position that was no longer tenable. But as to the future—well, Alphonse's shrug gave them little indication.