Both lads gazed at the sealed envelope as if they would like to bore through the outer covering and read the message within.
“Dare we open it?” Phil asked. “If it is in the ordinary cipher I know the key word. It may be something important, and as well for us to know the contents if we lose the telegram. And here is a letter addressed to the captain,” he continued excitedly. “This is surely the one which Ta-Ling tempted Langdon to take. But come,” he added hastily, “we must not allow him to be a minute longer in his chains.”
Taking the keys from Sydney’s hand, he opened the cell door and led the way to the door of Langdon’s prison. There was no sound in the enclosure except an occasional shrill cry from the prisoners at the far corner. As they waited in the silent courtyard to make sure all was well before entering, Langdon’s heavy breathing came distinctly to their ears.
After a few seconds Phil selected the right key and the next moment the door swung open, while the lad whispered softly:
“Langdon!”
But there was no answer; then the dim light shed its fitful rays about the dungeon and the lad gave a smothered cry of concern, for the sight which met his gaze was indeed appalling: Langdon, bound tightly, was triced up to a beam overhead by his feet and the iron ring about his neck, and he was by degrees strangling to death.
The anxious lads quickly cut the ropes and lowered the insensible man to the floor. Then removing the irons they worked over him anxiously while the time passed on winged feet. Finally the pilot opened his eyes and stared at the lads with angry, sullen eyes, making a futile attempt to speak.
“You miserable coward,” he finally managed to say in a thick whisper. “I hope some day you’ll be treated as you’ve treated me.”
The midshipmen were at first so taken aback that they were silent. Then the comical part of the tragedy appealed to them and in that instant Langdon recognized his rescuers.
“We’ve got him now in almost the same condition that you were in,” Phil whispered.