The Pulaskian., 1916-10-27
CHAPTER XXI.
Toward Dawn.

tOWdFO OdWns
 In the condemned cell Richard Far quhar stood with his back against the wall, his arms folded, watching the yellow streak of light that filtered through the narrow barred window and fell slantwise across the darkness to the iron door opposite He knew that the light came from an overhang- ing lantern outside, and that beneath sentry with fixed bayonet kept guard.
 Footsteps sounded on the passage. The light still burned steadily Morn- ing was not yet come. Nor could he hear voices or the familiar clash of bayonets. The footsteps were swift, stealthy. The jarring turn of the key in the lock sounded subdued, as though the strength of the will behind it had hushed sound itself. Farquhar faced about firmly If this were death, then it came under a strange guise. The door swung open For an instant the light from the window spread out and mingled with the dingy reflection from the passage, then narrowed once more, leaving the darkness on either hand the more impenetrable
 "Nameless! Take these clothes. Change instantly"
 "Who are you?"
 "I will introduce myself later on. Do as I tell you"
 A shadow moved and came out into 4I,o 1q Is<rl, I1o,. .l.L glimpse of the gaunt hard-lined face frozen now into impassive resolution. He tossed the bundle of clothes back on to the floor
 "Goetz, you fool. do you think I would do it? It's useless. Pm not going to have you shot in my stead"
 "Pig-headed Englishman, do you think I should ask you to do anything so sensible? Get into these clothes if you don't want to be strangled? Name of heaven, Don Quixote, may not it oc- cur to Sancho Panza to accompany you on your little expedition into freedom?"
 'sThe thing is impossible"
 But even in the half-light he had caught the blaze in the usually cold and arrogant eyes. It fired his blood. It was like a blast of northern wind in the fetid closeness. Tt is not impossible. Your friends are here-your mother. There are horses waiting for us both outside the Notifications. Tomorrow we shall be in Oron. God, man-if you had seen her face when I gave your message! Will you let that little woman break her heart over youw
 Farquhar tore off his tunic.
 "Who has the watch?"
 Bertrand. He went over to the canteen five minutes ago. As I know, he will not be back yet while. At the worst we have three minutes to spare"
 Give me that coatp' Neither man had raised his voice above a whisper. Goetz's laugh was inaudible.
 "Ah, das ewig weibliche! Are you ready?"
 "Yes.''
 "Then come"
 The iron door swung back smoothly. In the neighboring cell there was a sudden hush: as though warned by some instinct the rough voices died down into a dull murmur, through which the two listeners heard other sounds-a harsh command. heavy ap- preaching footsteps. Goetz closed the door, He set his back against it. and in the pale light falling aslant his face Farquhar saw that he was smiling savagely.
 T demand hundred pardons. miscalculated. Our friend Bertrand has deserted the bottle minute too soon. It is scarcely credible. No doubt he intends to pay you farewell call. In which case accept my profuse apologies, Nameless."
 "Who goes with Bertrand on the round?' Farquhar asked almost with indifference.
 Harding. He knows. H> will do all he can. Be quiet now-they are in the next cell.'
 The drunken shouts subsided sud. denly into cowed sullen silence. They heard the sergeant's savage abuse, the jangle of keys. the clang of au iron door slammed violently to. Instantly the chorus broke out afresh.
 ITO BE coNTINUEnl