“It’s probably true,” Mortimer replied. “But I intend to make an attempt at all hazards. It’s better to die in the valley outside, after a good hot fight, than to perish heart-broken, cooped up here.”
Then began a search for methods by which they could get past the door and reach the sentinel outside.
“Why not lie in wait at the door,” suggested the Professor, “and when the food is brought in we can make one spirited dash?”
“No, that won’t do,” Mortimer said. “It is Valerie who brings the food; we can’t treat her so.”
They discussed a plan whereby one of them was to feign illness and ask for a doctor, or other medical assistance; but it was repugnant to them both to seek advantage in any form over one who came on an ostensible errand of mercy.
They at last hit upon the much simpler expedient of sending a message demanding to see the man in command. Henry, with his brutal directness, would probably jump at the conclusion that they sought some concession, or had some terms to propose. With him they would have no scruples.
Accordingly, when Valerie brought in the dinner on the fourth day following the visit of the High President, the Professor broached the subject.
“My dear Miss Robert—” he began.
“Call me Valerie. Everybody does here. It’s so much simpler,” said the girl, as she busied herself with the table.
“Ah, yes; certainly. My dear Miss Valerie—”