CHAPTER XI--PRISON BREAKERS

Tom found himself in a long broad alley-way, flanked by arches. There was no sign of the dungeons, apparently no means of exit. The air was damp and heavy, and the first indication that he was approaching the neighbourhood of the dungeons was afforded by his nose. Coming at length to a narrow flight of steps leading downwards, the fact that he was nearing the object of his quest was borne in upon his sense with ever-increasing pungency.

"Surely," he thought, "the sheikh is not such a beast as to herd Ingleton with the ordinary criminals!"

Another alley-way, apparently underneath the one from which he had come, was disclosed by his electric torch when he reached the bottom of the staircase; but in this case there were doors at his right, and in the thickness of the wall, Moorish fashion, little peep-holes, through which no doubt the warder could spy upon the movements of the captives within.

Which was the door leading to the place of the envoy's confinement? Tom wondered. Was he indeed imprisoned here at all? Tom gave no thought to the predicament in which Abdul and he would be placed if it should prove that they had gone astray; his whole mind was centred on the plight of the English prisoner and the terrible misfortune it would be if he were elsewhere, and deep within him burned a fierce indignation that any countryman of his should be even within hailing distance of so noisome a place as this kasbah dungeon.

So anxious was he to know whether he was on the right track that, scarcely giving a thought to possible consequences, he lifted up his voice and shouted the name of the man for whom he was seeking. The loud tones went rolling beneath the arches, answered by a hundred echoes. But there was a nearer and more material answer. By the light of his torch, which he kept constantly in use, Tom saw a big, bearded, spectacled face appear at the aperture nearest to him on the right.

"Ach! Gott in Himmel! Vas zat English voice?"

Tom himself was in shadow, but his light fell full on the face of the speaker, and with a gasp of amazement he recognized Herr Hildebrand Schwab, the representative of the Schlagintwerts, who had called on him at Midfont months before and showed such a consuming curiosity to know the use to which he put the Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six. And with a sudden flash of recollection he remembered that Schwab had spoken of proceeding to Morocco on business. Coming out from beneath the arch in which he stood, and holding his torch before him, he approached the aperture. His appearance was hailed by a groan. Schwab did not recognize him in his Moorish dress. Deeply he groaned again, muttering--

"Ach, Ich Unglücklicher!"

His face, utterly woebegone in expression, was just disappearing within the cell when Tom, almost frantic with despair at the thought that the white prisoner was not the man he had come to seek after all, shouted again--

"Ingleton! Sir Mark Ingleton! Are you there?"

Schwab's face reappeared instantly. It was aglow with excitement and hope.

"Gott sei Dank! Ingleton! You zay Ingleton! Zough ze dress be Mohr, ze voice is English. You are indeed English? Answer me for ze love of ze heavens!"

"Yes, I am English," cried Tom impatiently; "I want Sir Mark Ingleton."

"He is here, vizin, inside, viz me, Hildebrand Schwab. Let me out double-quick; I stifle, I suffocate, I do not breaze. Gott sei dank!"

"He is there? Where is he? Tell him I want to speak to him--an Englishman."

"He sleep sound, he is indispose; but I am ze vorst. I am here ze longest. Open ze door, please, be good enough, have ze kindness----"

Without more ado, Tom drew back the bolts with a bang and pulled at the door. It was locked. Schwab groaned again; but Tom, handing his torch to Abdul, who was pale with apprehension, called to Schwab to stand away from the door, and blew the lock in with a shot from his revolver. He flung open the door, and burst into the cell. The shot had awakened the envoy, who looked up in a dazed fashion, and asked, in the low voice of a man thoroughly tired, what the disturbance was about.

"God be praise, we are save! Do not notice ze dress; it is nozink; ze man is English. Ach! it is no good; ze door is open, but ve are in chains. Ach! Zum Teufel! It is kaput--all up!"

Tom pushed past him impatiently.

"Quick, Abdul," he said, "the hammer!"

Hastening to Sir Mark, who had risen from the floor, with half a dozen sturdy blows Tom snapped the chains that fixed his ankle bands to staples in the wall, then performed the like service for Schwab. He made no attempt to release their ankles from the fetters: there was no time for this, and he feared also to do them an injury. The sounds had caused commotion in the further dungeon, where the sheikh's other prisoners were confined. Chains were clanking, men were shouting, the uproar was so great that it must reach the ears of the jailer if he were anywhere in the neighbourhood, and though he was shut off from the vaults, he might burst the locks and bring a host of armed men to the rescue.

"We have no time to lose," said Tom. "Come with me."

"But, pardon me----" said Sir Mark.

"I can't explain now," Tom interrupted. "Come along; it is all right, only we must get away at once."

"At vunce, Sir Ingleton," said Schwab. "You hear zat! For ze sake of anyzink, be a man!"

"My good sir----" began Sir Mark: but Tom again cut him short.

"Can you walk?" he asked, noticing that the Englishman tottered as he stood.

"With assistance, perhaps."

At once Tom caught him by an arm, bidding Abdul take the other. Supporting him, they led him along the passage, up the stairway to the upper corridor, Schwab panting and ejaculating behind them. Even before they reached the corridor they heard a tremendous battering at the door whose lock had been filled with fragments of brick.

It was so stout a barrier that Tom had no fear that it would be broken down by anything short of a battering ram, and it was not likely that the Moors had at hand an instrument ready for this purpose. His confidence was, however, soon shaken, for, before the party, encumbered with the enfeebled envoy, had begun to ascend the winding stairway leading from the arched corridor to the vestibule above, there was the sound of a very heavy body striking the door, followed by an ominous creak. Leaving the others to precede him, Tom stationed himself on the narrow stair, the hammer in one hand, his revolver in the other. He was determined not to use the revolver except in the last extremity, but he had no such compunctions about using the hammer.

Suddenly in the midst of the crashing blows upon the door there was the report of a rifle. The Moors were adopting his own device of blowing in the lock. The door gave way, and by the flash of his torch, Tom saw a crowd of swarthy Riffians swarming through the opening. The door at the foot of the winding stair leading to the corridor was somewhat ruinous; it was apparently seldom used, the sheikh depending for his security upon the heavy trapdoor above. Tom, however, succeeded in pulling it to before the Moors were upon him, and shot the single crazy bolt that still held. Then he darted up the stairs after the rest. They were just lifting the envoy through the trap. Schwab was waiting his turn, and when he heard Tom rushing up, he sprang through the opening with extraordinary agility. The trapdoor was let down and bolted; they hastened up the stairway to the upper vestibule adjoining the guest-chamber, thence up to the sheikh's quarters on the floor above, bolting every door behind them.

Even through the thick walls of the kasbah they had heard sounds of great excitement in the town. Evidently the whole place was now alive. And there was danger to be anticipated within, for as they groped their way up the last flight of stairs leading to the roof, their steps momentarily guided by the flashes of Tom's torches, the sounds of a tremendous battering near at hand struck upon their ears. Evidently the sheikh himself was now trying to make his way out. They hastened their steps as much as Sir Mark's enfeebled state permitted; Tom indeed was in such desperate anxiety, for pursuit could not be long delayed, that he forced the pace in a way that drew a protest from the Englishman--even in this extremity a diplomatist.

They came to the last flight of stairs leading to the roof.

"Is that you, Dorrell?" came the voice of Oliphant from above. Nervously restless, first on account of Tom's long absence, and then at the violent sounds within and without the building, he had left the airship and stationed himself with his revolver at the top of the staircase leading to the roof, to cover Tom's retreat if he proved to be hard pressed.

"All well!" shouted Tom in reply.

In another minute all four emerged upon the roof, and Oliphant gave a whistle of amazement and consternation when he saw an unexpected addition to the party.

"Two of them?" he ejaculated.

"Yes; the sheikh had a German gentleman--"

"Hildebrand Schwab, representative of ze excellent firma of Schlagintwert and----"

"Hang it, we can't stop for introductions now," said Tom. "Abdul, run down to the door of the sheikh's room and persuade him that he risks his life if he comes out. We shall want a minute or two to get ready."

The Moor obeyed, not without a look of nervousness. At first he could scarcely make his voice heard above the uproar within the sheikh's room; but succeeding at last, he began a conversation which might have shocked and would certainly have amused Tom if he could have understood it.

"Is the most excellent lord the sheikh within?" shouted Abdul at the top of his voice.

The noise ceased.

"Certainly he is, thou misbegotten son of a pig!" said the frenzied sheikh. "Open this door, or by the beard of the Prophet I will flay thee alive, thou rat."

"Peace, O sheikh! Dost thou value thy life so little, foolish one?" Abdul was gaining courage; his enemy was on the other side of the door. "Peace, thou kaffir; I spit upon thee. Dost thou think to pass through till it be the good pleasure of those who have captured thy kasbah to permit thee? Know it is I, Abdul ben Cassim, and verily I and the good men with me will cut thee in pieces, first plucking out one by one the hairs of thy beard, if thou showest thy pig's snout beyond this door."

This seemed to stagger the sheikh, for his next words were uttered in a milder tone.

"What is thy purpose, O Abdul?"

"Know, thou dog of a dog, that a great sultan, the King of England, hath sent his most trusty wazeer to wrest from thee his servant, whom thou didst treacherously seize and shut in thy stinking dungeon. There now lies at this very door a monstrous bomb which will go off--Allah is great!--the instant this door is opened. Dost thou believe, dog? Verily thou wilt be shattered into as many pieces as there are lies in thy heart if thou dost but move the door the tenth part of an inch. But the King of England is merciful; he will not do you or your folk harm: he knows other ways of avenging the injury his servant has suffered at thy hands. Verily thou art in bad case, thou two-faced dog. Before the growing of a fingernail thou wilt be haled to Marrakesh, and then thou wilt suffer the pangs of Tophet."

And Abdul went on to revile the sheikh in terms that cannot be rendered in our modest English. His inventiveness was very creditable to his presence of mind, for though the noise in the sheikh's apartments had ceased, the uproar below was growing moment by moment in intensity. The great gate had been thrown open, the patio was thronged with fierce Moors enraged at the indignity put upon their chief, and it was scarcely possible that the doors below, stout as they were, could long withstand the furious blows with which they were assailed.

Meanwhile Tom had assured himself that his machinery was in order. Sir Mark had already entered the car. Tom was beside him, ready to start the propellers; Schwab was ensconced in the corner furthest from danger.

"Call Abdul, Oliphant," said Tom.

Oliphant went to the head of the stairs and called; Abdul came bounding up, and in half a minute all five were packed into the car. It was a very tight fit, and Tom felt a tremor of apprehension as he pressed the lever. The vertical propellers answered instantly to his touch, but they beat the air ineffectually: the airship absolutely refused to rise.

"It won't lift us!" he said, aghast. "We're too heavy. Some one must be left behind."

"I'll stay," said Oliphant at once. "Take the others to the hill and come back for me. I can manage for half an hour or so with my revolver."

"Not a bit of it. I want your help with the machinery. What on earth can we do?"

"Leave Abdul?"

"Can't hear of it: he couldn't defend himself long, and he'd be frightfully tortured if they got him. We can't all get away at once, that's certain; and, as we certainly can't leave Sir Mark, we must leave the one we didn't reckon on. Herr Schwab----"

"No. I refuse. I vill not stay. I am here."

"I'm afraid you must. We shan't be long. I'll drop the others a mile or two away, and come back for you at once."

"Never in ze vorld. I protest. I am Jarman sobjeck: is not ze life of Jarman sobjeck of more vorth zan ze life of a Mohr? Our Kaiser, who is in Berlin----"

"We can't stop to argue it. They won't kill you, at any rate; they know enough of your Kaiser perhaps to refrain from that: whereas they'd kill the Moor to a certainty. We can't all lose our lives for you. In short, you must get out, and be quick about it, or, by Jove! we'll have to throw you out."

"It is terrible; it is unkind. I cannot stay alone; no longer am I as I vas; I lose pounds in ze prison. I am not made for zis. Some vun muss remain viz me; I care not who: some vun to give me courage."

Here Abdul stepped into the breach and volunteered to stay with the German.

"I have it!" cried Oliphant. "The trapdoor that covers the opening is at the other end of the roof, by the parapet there. We can shut that down and bolt it. And, by George! the stones of the parapet are pretty loose. Abdul and Mr. Schwab can pile some of them on the trap; we'll leave them our revolvers, and with a little pluck they can keep the blackguards at bay until we get back."

"That's it. You'll be as safe as the Bank of England, Mr. Schwab. Quick! Out with you! Here's my revolver!"

"Ach! I am man of peace; vunce I vas var gorresbondent, and----"

"For goodness' sake get out, man. Don't you see you're endangering the whole lot of us, yourself included. Oliphant, we shall have to fling him out."

But at this threat Schwab rose and stepped on to the roof, his face a very picture of woe. Oliphant assisted Abdul to place the trapdoor over the opening, and of course made the discovery that the bolts were on the inside.

"But the stones will do," said Oliphant. "Buck up, Mr. Schwab; you're not absolutely helpless, are you?"

"It is true, I have carried stones, but zey vere small," said Schwab lugubriously, remembering the means by which he had mounted the fence at Midfont in pursuit of business. Leaving him to it, Oliphant got back into the car. Tom pressed the lever, and the airship, relieved of near two hundredweight of German subject and the lesser bulk of the Moor, soared into the air. Tom's last view, as the vessel rose clear of the kasbah, was Schwab limping across the roof under the burden of a large stone from the coping.

"A most singular proceeding!" murmured Sir Mark, as the airship whirred over the hills. "I wonder how I stand--diplomatically considered. The vessel goes with consummate ease. There is positively no roll--nothing to cause seasickness."

Tom laughed. The matter-of-fact at this moment was very refreshing.

"I hope you will redeem your promise to rescue Mr. Schwab," the envoy continued. "He has been a great joy to me in my captivity."

"Oh yes, we'll get him. We shall drop you in a few minutes. You will not mind being left for a little while?"

"Not at all, not at all. I find the air and the motion most invigorating. I have lately been very conscious of the inconvenience of having a nose."

Tom did not know, though Oliphant suspected, that Sir Mark's cool manner was adopted intentionally--to ease the strain on their nerves. A man is not trained to diplomacy for nothing. He kept up a quiet flow of nothings until the hill was reached.

"A very airy situation," he remarked, as he was set down on the hill-top.

"Yes. You'll find it cold," said Tom. "Here's my coat."

"Thanks. Having escaped asphyxia, it would certainly be a pity to contract pneumonia. You look quite comfortable yourself: the Moorish djellab is a very warm garment, I should think."

He put on Tom's reefer, which had lain in a corner of the car. Then Tom sent the airship aloft again, and hurried back to the kasbah.