“But they say the man is a traitor,” protested Roddy.
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
“In my country,” he answered, “every man who is not for the government is a traitor.”
He directed the turnkey who accompanied them to unlock the gate of the cell, and with a gesture invited the Americans to enter. As they did so, each dropped his right hand into his outside coat pocket. When it came forth again, concealed under each little finger was a tiny roll of rice-paper torn from a book of cigarette-wrappers. On each, in pencil, was written, “54-4” and the word “Hope.” The night previous Peter and Roddy had prepared the papers, on the chance that while one of them occupied the attention of the guide, the other could slip his message to Rojas. Roddy had insisted upon the use of rice-paper, because it could be swallowed without indigestion, and instead of the word “Hope,” had preferred a freehand drawing of an anchor, arguing that the anchor was the emblem of hope, and was more picturesque than the written word. To this Peter had objected that while they knew an anchor signified hope, Rojas might not, and as they were risking their lives to get a message to him, it was important he should understand it. They compromised on the numerals, which would show Rojas his own cipher messages had been received and understood, and the word “Hope” was added to put heart into him and strengthen his desire to cling to life.
But on entering the cell they saw at once that there would be no chance to deliver their message. General Rojas was seated at a table some ten feet from them, and the turnkey, who had submitted with ill grace to the Americans entering any of the cells, and who seemed especially to resent their presence in this one, at once placed himself aggressively on guard.
As he did so he commanded sharply: “The visitors will not speak to the prisoner.”
“That is understood,” Vicenti answered.
The Americans saw a room some forty by twenty feet in size, with walls, arched ceiling and floor entirely of stone. There were no windows, but it was well lighted by candles, and the lanterns carried by Vicenti and the turnkey threw a full light into each corner. They saw a cot, a table, a chair, a number of shelves loaded to the bending point with books and, at one end of the cell, an immense archway. This archway had been blocked with stone, roughly hewn and held together by cement. At the first glance, it was obvious that this was the other entrance to the tunnel. As he beheld its solid front, the heart of each of the young men sank in dismay.
General Rojas had risen, and stood shading his eyes from the unaccustomed light of the lanterns.
“I have taken the liberty of intruding upon you,” Vicenti was saying, “because these two gentlemen are interested in the history of the fortress.”