“W—what is it?” he gasped.
“It’s broke out,” said William succinctly, “the revolution—it’s broke out.”
“B—but I heard nothing on the way,” gasped the poor man again, drops of perspiration standing out on his brow.
“No, it’s been very sudden,” explained William unabashed, “quite a lot of people don’t know anything about it yet.”
“What I always said would happen,” groaned Mr. Morgan. “On us before we know where we are! The first blaze kindled in this very village and my home—my own house—taken for headquarters. I’ve always feared it—always.”
“They’re having the people from the village in one by one,” said William cheerfully. “They’ve got ’em all locked in the cellars. They’re killin’ most of them.”
“And—and all my valuables there,” groaned Mr. Morgan, “all my money and everything. If only I could collect some of it I could make good my escape.”
He shuddered as the brutal communist commander within shook his fist with a particularly brutal gesture in the shrinking prisoner’s face.
“Well,” said William slowly. “When first I started watchin’ through this window it was open an’ they were alone—it was before they started havin’ in the prisoner—an’ I heard them saying that they were afraid the reg’lar army’d soon be upon them an’ the signal that the reg’lar army was comin’ upon ’em was three blows on a whistle from the road so as soon as they heard three blows on a whistle from the road it’d mean that the reg’lar army was comin’ upon ’em an’ they’d have to clear out quick—so if we could give three blows on a whistle from the road they’d clear out jolly quick an’ you could nip in an’ get your stuff before they come back. But—but, I’ve not got a whistle, have you?”
There was a tense silence during which William held his breath.