He had not asked for passports, but I realised that by morning he would have made inquiries, and know exactly who we were. Our escape would undoubtedly be reported to him even if his daughter kept her word. There was nothing to do but allow ourselves to be led off to bed, hoping that we should be put where we could get out easily, though even if we got out of the house, there would still be the wall and its gate to pass. However, we were at least several miles nearer Herrovosca than we had been at midnight. We must content ourselves with that reflection and get some sleep, since we could not do anything else.
They took us to a room in the ancient tower. It was quite comfortable enough to have been intended as a guest room instead of a prison cell, though it was not large. The walls were a good four feet thick, of solid stone, and we climbed up three flights of stairs to get to it. The view in the very early dawn was magnificent. Rolling hills to the south and west, and to the north and east, higher and yet higher and more jagged rose the mountains, all bathed in the romantic light just before the sun shows itself.
“We really accomplished a big night’s work getting out of that piece of scenery,” John said, “I guess we deserve a rest.”
I dressed his hands again with fresh water and the remaining handkerchiefs. They looked better than I had thought they would. Then we went to bed.
The staircase by which we had come to our room did not end at our floor, but went on, whether to a roof or another floor I could not see. Outside on the landing a guard settled himself in a chair against our door. A few minutes after we were in bed I heard a low conversation between him and another man, then footsteps went upwards. As I lay quietly, looking out toward the highest mountains, I caught suddenly a flash of distant light from one of the lower peaks. It came and went intermittently, flashing in code, as they had flashed in code from the customs house to the tower we were now in. No doubt they were flashing a message about us, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that the point from which they were being answered was now visible, and must be the stronghold of Fakat Zol. I spent the next hour drawing a careful sketch of the mountain peaks, with an indication of the one from which the signals came, and put the sketch in my shoe under the pass from the Queen. Then I lay down again, feeling like the best of counter-plotters. I wondered what my quiet newspaper friends at home would think of me. They didn’t think they were quiet, but the best they could do for excitement was a night at a speakeasy, or a little poker, with an occasional big murder case to liven the day’s work. And with that comforting thought I went to sleep.
I dreamed of witches in Salem being crushed by the weight of huge stones on their chests. I was a witch, and the stone struck suddenly, and was followed by a shout from the onlookers, and then by another. I sat up in bed, sneezing, and found that a large piece of plaster had fallen from the ceiling, and struck me on the chest. The dust was so bad I felt choked. I looked up at the place from which it had fallen, and saw a large hole, and in it a man’s face peering down at us. He was not altogether a pleasant looking person, and seemed to be more the night club type than a wily politician who would deserve imprisonment. He had bulgy dark eyes, a curly brown mustache and thick wet lips above a three days’ growth of beard. He was speaking to us in Alarian.
“We don’t speak Alarian,” I said. “Sorry, can’t understand you.”
The man immediately switched to English, “Quick, you hide the plaster,” he ordered, “they will not know, perhaps. Be quick, I tell you, they may come any time.”
John lay looking up at him, “Oh, all right,” he said. “We’ll do that for you, but you needn’t be so upset about it.” He got out of bed slowly, groaning with the stiffness of his muscles. I slid out as carefully as I could so as not to disturb the plaster. Then I looked at John’s hands. They were much improved. “Be all right in a few days,” John said. “Really not bad at all now, they have stopped smarting entirely.” The man above scolded at us. “Time for that later,” he said, “hide the plaster, now, quick.”
“Shut up!” I ordered, “I’ll hide that plaster when and if I get good and ready.”