“Dabnitz, I don't want you among the captured on my account. Just forget that order! The platoon has gone back. The staff is blocked and jammed with greater things. Will you forget it? Wink twice—”
There was no hesitation.
“Good. The sentries must be called off—that stair-door left open. I'll join them—and bother you no more. We'll not leave the room while the town changes hands. They'll never even ask you if that little job is done. Will you go with me now and do this? Wink twice—”
It was done emphatically; a beseeching for haste.
“Dabnitz, I trust you. I'll entertain you in America some time—all Washington and New York.... You'll do exactly what I ask—no more, no less? Good God, man, it wouldn't do any good to kill 'em now. They're out of hand forever. Perhaps the Austrians will do it, anyway. Wink twice—”
“Good.” The gag was jerked free, and the various bindings.
“Now, come with me. I'll detain you but a second or two—”
Dabnitz walked at his side to the stair entrance of the skylight prison. He spoke to the sentry below. The officer of the guard was called; the sentry summoned from above, the door left open.
“Wait,” Boylan said finally to Dabnitz. “Here's your gun, Lieutenant. I'm obliged to you. You'll know better some day what I mean by that—”
“Keep them under cover,” Dabnitz said hoarsely. “I'll kill you or any of the others that I see in the street.”