"I shall be here sir."
"But I won't," said Wharton, as he stepped back and smashed the receiver with the butt of his automatic.
Then as he turned away he said:
"Boys, I've been talking with the Emperor himself maybe, and if not with some one very high in command. I'll tell you about it later, as we must waste no time in escaping from this château."
"I hope you told the Emperor that we are here, ready to defeat him," said John.
"I didn't tell him that exactly, but I told him or whoever it was something which may help us. Now, fellows, we must be off."
They crippled the instrument beyond hope of repair and started. As John turned toward the stairway, he glanced at von Boehlen. The Prussian had returned to consciousness and his eyes were wide open. They bent upon John such a look of anger and hatred that the young American shuddered. And yet, John felt von Boehlen had full cause for such feelings. Despite himself he believed that they owed him an apology, and stooping a little he said:
"It's been a cruel necessity, Captain von Boehlen. War is violence."
The Prussian's eyes glared back. A handkerchief in his mouth kept him from speaking, but his eyes said enough.
"I hope that you and your comrade will not suffer," said John. "Your friends will find you here in the morning."