Geoffrey followed. Where Tchigorsky could go he felt competent to follow. They reached the ground in safety and later were in the road. The moon had gone and it was intensely dark, but Geoffrey knew the way perfectly.
"Straight to Jessop's farm?" he asked.
"As far as the lawn," Tchigorsky replied. "It will be a good hour yet before we can venture to carry out our burglary. I can run no risks until I know that those two Asiatics are out of the way. What time is it?"
"About ten minutes to twelve."
Tchigorsky muttered that the time was not quite suitable for him. He drew a watch from his pocket; there was a stifled whirr of machinery, and the repeater's rapid pulse beat twelve with the silvery chime of a quarter after the hour.
"You are wrong," he said. "You see it is between a quarter and half-past twelve. We will lie on Jessop's lawn till one o'clock and then all will be safe."
They lay there waiting for the time to pass. The minutes seemed to be weighted. "Tell me some more of your Lassa adventures," Geoffrey asked.
"Very well," Tchigorsky replied. "Where did I leave off? Ah, we had just been tortured on that awful grill. And we had been offered our lives on condition that we consented to be hopeless idiots for the rest of our days.
"Well, we were not going to live in these circumstances, you may be sure. For the next few days we were left to our own resources in a dark dungeon with the huge rats and vermin for company. We were half starved into the bargain, and when we were brought into the light once more they naturally expected submission.
"But they didn't get it. They did not realize the stuff we were made of. And they had no idea we were armed. We had our revolvers and concealed in our pockets were some fifty rounds of ammunition. If the worst came to the worst we should not die without a struggle.