The guard drew back and shut the door. His soft tread echoed down the corridor, and all was still.
The suspense of the next five minutes Guy will never forget as long as he lives. It seemed to his excited imagination as though an hour had passed by, when suddenly sounds were heard in the corridor, and in an instant more Canaris stood before them, his leather case at his side, a lamp in his hand. He closed the door, opened, the case, and drew out two wide linen tunics and two long jackets such as the Emir’s troops wore.
“Put these on,” he whispered. “You can wear your helmets; there are many of them in Harar.”
As he spoke he drew an Arab burnous over his head, shading entirely his light hair and mustache. He next pulled the revolvers and shells from under the straw, distributed them around, and with the knife cut the rope in a dozen parts. By this time Guy and Melton had donned their disguises and were ready for action.
Up to this point Guy had supposed that Canaris had bribed the guards and paved the way out of prison.
“You are sure the guards will let us pass?” he said.
Canaris looked at him in wonder, and then a smile rippled over his face.
“You thought I had bribed the guards,” he said. “Ten thousand pounds could not tempt them. They would only lose their heads in the morning. It matters little,” he added. “They will lose them anyhow. But our time has come; be ready now to assist.”
He motioned Guy and Melton behind the door, and then, pulling it partly open, uttered a few words in a strange tongue.
Instantly the powerful frame of the big Nubian entered, and as he stood for one second on the dungeon floor, sudden mistrust in his ugly features, Canaris leaped at his throat and bore him heavily to the ground.