For a second the girl gazed wildly around her, as though seeking some help in her terrible dilemma, then she snatched up a bit of the torn sheeting, tied it to the screw of the porthole cover, and flung the end out where it fluttered in the darkness.
As she sprang to the floor Golden Beard swung round in renewed anger at her for still loitering.
“Sacreminton!” he exclaimed. “It is time you do your part! Go to your post then! We remain here until five minutes is left us. Then we join you.”
The girl nodded, turned to the door.
“Wait! You understand the plan?”
“Yes.”
“You understand that you do not go overboard until we arrive, no matter what happens?”
“Yes.”
He stood looking at her for a moment, then with a shrug he went over and patted her shoulder.
“That’s my brave girl! I also do not desire to kill anybody. But when the Fatherland is in danger, then killing signifies nothing—is of no consequence—pouf!—no lives are of importance then—not even our own!” He laughed in a fashion almost kindly and clapped her lightly once more on her shoulder: “Go, my child. The Fatherland is in danger!”