I obeyed all his instructions and stuffed the things into my pockets. I had hardly finished when I heard a sharp crack from the room below. I went to the hole in the wall again and called through to Helena, “He’s got the bars out, and I am going now. I hope and pray you may be safe.”
“And you,” she said, “don’t forget that the Black Ghost wears a ruby ring. All my prayers go with you. À dieu.”
“À dieu,” I replied, feeling pretty mean about leaving her, but not seeing anything else to do. I pushed a blanket through the hole in the floor, then tied the water pitcher to a torn pillow case, and let that down, after which I dropped down myself, carefully, so that the rug would fall back smoothly over the hole. The longer they puzzled over how we had got out the more time we should have to get away.
“Don’t think about your cousin now,” John said, “there’s very little chance of our being useful to her if we stay, whereas if we should really manage to get away we might conceivably be able to get back here again with a rescue party.”
“The rescue will be accomplished another way,” I said, “if at all.”
John showed me his hands then, they were raw with burns and blisters. “Good Lord,” I said, “you can’t go with hands like that.”
“Don’t be silly,” he answered, “that’s what I want the handkerchiefs and salve for. Time’s precious, but I guess we’ll save it by using a little sense.” He soaked his wounds carefully in the clean water, and then held them out while I applied the salve. It must have been a stinging dose, but he stood it well. Then I put the jar back in my pocket, and arranged the blanket in the window so that what acid remained there should not burn us or our clothes. John climbed through first. I waited and slowly counted ten before I followed. The drop was really quite short. I let myself down from the ledge, holding fast by my hands until I was hanging flat against the wall of the building. Then I let go. It was all very simple. Almost too simple. I suspected an ambush any moment as we went down the path single file. Overhead, the stars were shining; below us, far down the valley, a single light flickered, though whether it was a signal light or in a cabin we could not tell. Then, suddenly, the stars and the light below us were cut off. We had entered a tunnel. I was sure then, that we were trapped after all. It had been too easy a matter, getting out of the place. The end of the path must be blocked, and all that we had won was the pleasure of spending the night outdoors.
But I was wrong. The tunnel was a long one, but unguarded, and fairly straight. It was damp, however, and very slippery underfoot, and there were bats in it. Once or twice we brought up square against a wall, but we always found, a moment or so later, that the way continued at an angle. It was pitch dark, of course, and though I had brought candles and some matches from our room, we did not dare to strike a light.
At last, ahead of us, we saw a star. I stopped, and spoke in the lowest whisper I could manage, to urge John to extra caution. Without a light we had no means of knowing how much longer the tunnel was, and at its end there would undoubtedly be a guard. We must go carefully.
That last few yards was so slow and silent that it seemed like years before we saw the sky above and not ahead of us. The path was still narrow, and, like that we had seen below our prison windows, a mere ledge along the cliff. There was no one on the path itself, but on a level a little above it, with a rifle at his shoulder, his body silhouetted against the sky from where we crouched, stalked a sentinel. He was guarding not only the path where we were, but another that branched off from it as well. The other must be the important one or he would have stayed down on our level. A short flight of stone steps connected the two. I could just see them in the darkness. John dropped to his knees, close to the low retaining wall, and, step by slow step, began making his way across the open space. I dropped to my knees, too, but merely to be less obvious in case the man should flash a light. I could not see John after a moment or two. He disappeared into the darkness. There was no way for me to tell how far he had crawled, for he literally made not a sound. Two bats circled round and round over our heads, swooping close to the sentinel at times. I did not know whether they would prove a help to us in distracting the man’s attention, or, by coming too close to us, betray us. Our fate seemed to hang on a bat’s whim.