flagged passage. They were quite close to
him. He looked round and caught a glimpse of Maurice St. Clair in the
act of springing on him. He was grappled by strong arms and flung to the
ground before he could do anything to defend himself. Maurice, kneeling
on him, put the point of a knife to his throat.

"If you speak one word or utter the slightest sound I cut your throat at
once."

The unfortunate soldier lay still. Maurice, the knife still pricking the
man's throat, crept slowly off him and knelt on the floor. With his left
hand he unclasped the soldier's belt.

"Now," he said, "turn over on your face, and put your hands behind you."

The man obeyed, and felt the sharp point of the knife slip slowly round
his neck until it rested behind his ear.

"'Remember," said Maurice, "one good cut downwards now and you are a
dead man. Put your hands together."

He pulled the leather belt clear with his left hand, then, dropping the
knife, he knelt on the man's back and gripped his wrists.

In a moment he had them securely strapped together with the leather
belt. Then he stuffed a cloth into the soldier's mouth and bound it
there with a stout cord tied tight round his head. Another cord--Maurice
had come well supplied with what he was likely to want--was made fast
round the man's legs. Then Maurice stood up and surveyed his handiwork.
He laughed softly, well satisfied. The lamp flickered and went out.

"It's a good job for you," said Maurice, "that the light lasted as long
as it did. I couldn't have gagged and tied you in the dark. I should
have been obliged to kill you."

He felt along the wall until he came to the cellar door and found the
keyhole. After much fumbling he got the key in, turned it, and pushed
open the door.

"Neal," he called. "Neal, are you there?"

"Yes. Who is that? Is it you, Maurice? It's like your voice."

Stumbling forward through the pitch dark, Neal gripped Maurice at last.
Hand in hand they went cautiously along the passage and up the stairs.

"Come in here," said Maurice. "There's a light here, and I want to
see if it's really you. Oh! you needn't be afraid. There are plenty of
soldiers, but they won't hurt you. They're all dead drunk. Now, Neal,
there's lots to eat and drink. Sit down and make the best of your time.
You'll want a square meal. I'll just take a light and go down to that
fellow in the passage. I've got a few fathom of good, stout rope--I'm
not sure that it isn't the bit