"Get them to hang on a minute, old man," he exclaimed, addressing Webb. Then tendering the document to the inquisitive soldier, he ostentatiously displayed a handful of coins.
The natural cupidity of the man was unable to resist the bait. "Palm oil" would have done the trick had not the spy contrived at that moment to slip the bonds that secured his wrists. With a deft movement he produced the bundle of English Treasury notes that had been paid him by the German submarine officers, at the same time fumbling with the knot that held his gag in position.
Before Webb, whose attention had been centred upon restraining the rest of the Civil Guards, could prevent it, the spy had freed himself from the gag, and was protesting in voluble Spanish that he was an Andalusian who had been kidnapped by English brigands.
Hopelessly outbidden, for the Greek was doling out pound notes in a most lavish fashion, Osborne realized that he had been beaten at his own game. The climax came when Georgeos Hymettus scattered a handful of paper money in the dim light, and while the Spanish troops were scrambling for the spoil he took to his heels.
Since it was useless to follow, Osborne and Webb watched him till he vanished in the darkness. Then silently they waited until the morning gun from the citadel announced that the fortress of Gibraltar was open until the setting of the sun.
"A pretty pickle!" remarked Osborne. "Nothing done, your undress uniform ripped to ribbons, the spy gone, and we ourselves have to face the music for having overstayed our leave. Rotten, I call it!"
"Don't know so much about that'," remarked Webb, the cheery optimist. "We've discovered something that will be of interest to the authorities, and, after all, we've had quite an exciting adventure. Some night, eh, what?"