“M M M begins To-morrow night stop Come early as possible stop Three lights in triangle safe stop Four keep off M M M ends.”
“At last,” said Dick grimly, with a look on his face that boded ill for some one. He looked drawn and haggard, and even Le Couteur could hardly repress a shudder at the savage determination that blazed in his eyes.
For Yvette the next day was one of misery. Time after time she was dragged from her cell and taken before the Governor of the prison, and Kranzler, to be pitilessly cross-questioned and even threatened with violence. But even though she knew well that the two brutes were quite capable of carrying out their threats nothing could break the spirit of the French girl. To all their questions and menaces she turned a deaf ear and nothing they could say would induce her to affirm or deny anything. Utterly worn out she was at length roughly bundled back into her cell, where she dropped exhausted on the miserable apology for a bed. At least she was alone.
It was about five o’clock and she had fallen into an uneasy doze, when she was awakened by a slight noise at the door. She saw the observation grille slide back and, pushed through the grating, a tiny parcel fell with a subdued clink on the floor. Then the grating was closed.
Hastily she sprang to her feet and seized the parcel, a new hope surging in her breast. It could only mean help!
Inside the parcel was a letter, unsigned of course, but in Jules’ handwriting, and a small key.
Nine o’clock came, and with all the wearisome ceremony dear to the German heart, the guard, accompanied by a wardress, made its final inspection for the night. A few minutes after the big prison was as silent as the grave.
Half an hour later Yvette cautiously fitted the key into the lock. It had been well oiled, and the door swung open without a sound. Creeping down the flight of steps Yvette found that the key also opened the door at the bottom, and in a moment she was in the yard.
Rain was falling heavily. There was not a ray of light in the yard excepting a faint gleam which showed the position of the warders’ lodges.
Before leaving her cell Yvette had pulled her stockings over her boots, and moving without a sound she groped her way along the wall. A few feet from the door she found the big stackpipe which brought the rain water from the roof. Stooping she lifted the iron grid of the drain and thrust in her hand. Her fingers closed on the butt end of the gas pistol.