“Before we could take three steps from the door,” he said, “the fellow would see us and alarm the palace. If I go alone the chances are that before you can reach me he would succeed in making an outcry. Our only hope lies in getting away from the town before our escape is discovered.”
“But what are you going to do, Canaris?” asked Guy excitedly. “We are losing precious time.”
“Keep cool,” replied the Greek. “I will fix him in five minutes. Stay where you are and don’t make a sound. When I wave my hand, then come.”
He removed his burnous and stuffed it under his tunic. Then he calmly opened the door and walked straight across the court toward the guard, who looked up carelessly at his approach. With their eyes glued against the cracks of the door Guy and Melton waited in terrible suspense.
A short conversation ensued. Canaris turned and pointed toward the prison. The guard replied with many gestures, and finally in his eagerness placed his rifle against the wall. What followed was so swift and dexterous that it seemed like a dream.
The Greek’s right hand shot out from his bosom clasping some glittering object. It struck the astonished guard on the forehead with a sharp click that echoed across the courtyard, and without a sound he dropped on his knees and then rolled over on the stone pavement.
Canaris waved his hand, and then the two captives dashed breathlessly across the courtyard.
“Is he dead?” asked Guy in a horrified whisper.
“Only stunned,” replied Canaris. “I struck him with the butt of my revolver. Quick now; bind and gag him while I find the key and open the gate.”
Guy hastily fastened the fellow’s feet and arms and stuffed a roll of linen in his mouth.