The age-long afternoon dragged to a close. They ate their supper, without appetite—which was a pity, since the meagre store of food in the mess had been recklessly ransacked, to give them a good send-off. Then another hour—muttering good-byes now and then, as they prowled about; and finally, to bed, to lie there for hours of darkness and silence. Gradually the noise of the camp died down. From the guard-room came, for a while, loud voices and harsh laughter; then quiet fell there too, and presently the night watch tramped through the barrack on its last visit of inspection, flashing lanterns into the faces of the prisoners. To-night the inspection seemed unusually thorough. It set their strained nerves quivering anew.
Then came an hour of utter stillness and darkness; the eight prisoners lying with clenched hands and set teeth, listening with terrible intentness. Finally, when Jim was beginning to feel that he must move, or go mad, a final signal came from the doorway. He heard Baylis say “Thank God!” under his breath, as they slipped out of bed in the darkness and felt their way downstairs. They were the last to come. The others were all crouched in the cupboard, waiting for them, as they reached its door; and just as they did so, the outer doorway swung open, with a blaze of light, and the big Feldwebel strode in.
“Shut the door!” Jim whispered. He launched himself at the German as he spoke, with a spring like a panther’s. His fist caught him between the eyes and he went down headlong, the lantern rolling into a corner. Jim knew nothing of what followed. He was on top of the Feldwebel, pounding his head on the floor; prepared, in his agony of despair, to do as much damage as possible before his brief dash for freedom ended. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Desmond’s sharp whisper.
“Steady—he’s unconscious. Let me look at him, Linton.”
Jim, still astride his capture, sat back, and Desmond flashed the Feldwebel’s own lantern into that hero’s face.
“H’m, yes,” he said. “Hit his head against something. He’s stunned, anyhow. What are we going to do with him?”
“Is he the only one?” Jim asked.
“It seems like it. But there may be another at any moment. We’ve got to go on; if he wakes up he’ll probably be able to identify you.” He felt in his pocket, and produced a coil of strong cord. “Come along, Linton—get off and help me to tie him up.”
They tied up the unconscious Feldwebel securely, and lifted him into the cupboard among the brooms, gagging him in case he felt inclined for any outcry on coming to his senses. The others had gone ahead, and were already in the tunnel; with them, one of the four disabled officers, whose job it was to close up the hole at the entrance and dismantle the electric light, in the faint hope that the Germans might fail to discover their means of escape, and so leave it free for another party to try for freedom. He stood by the yawning hole, holding one end of a string by which they were to signal from the surface, if all went well. The wistfulness of his face haunted Jim long afterwards.
“Good-bye, old man,” he said cheerily, gripping Jim’s hand. “Good luck.”