Chapter 15. Dick Ryan's Capture

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_ Terence wrote two despatches, one giving a full account of the engagement, the other a detail of the work that had been performed since they crossed the frontier. He wrote them in duplicate, so that he might send off another messenger, three hours later; in case, by any chance, Ryan failed to reach Miranda. He carefully abstained from giving any real account of the strength of the various columns, in each case putting the number at five times their actual strength so that, if the despatches should miscarry, not only would no information be conveyed to the French, but they would be led to believe that the invading force was vastly stronger than they had hitherto supposed. Ryan was, of course, to explain, when he delivered the despatches, that the figures must in all cases be divided by five, and the reason why false numbers had been inserted.

Terence let him sleep until one o'clock, and then roused him. Several French horses had been found, straying riderless along the valley; and the best of these was picked out for him. A few minutes later, Dick was on his way to Miranda. The road by which he was to travel would take him some six miles south of Zamora, and the distance to be ridden was between fifty and sixty miles. He knew that he could not do this at a gallop, and went along at a steady pace, sometimes trotting and sometimes cantering. It was now late in September and, at half-past five, it was still dark when Ryan approached the spot where the road he was following crossed the main road between Zamora and Salamanca.

He was riding at a canter, when suddenly, to his surprise and consternation, he rode into the midst of a body of cavalry, halted on the main road. The sound of his horse's feet had been heard and, before he could even draw his sword, he was seized and taken prisoner. A French officer rode down the line.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"We have taken a prisoner, sir," the sergeant answered. "We heard him coming by this crossroad, and seized him as he rode in among us. He is a soldier--an officer, I should think, from what I can see of him."

"Who are you, sir?" the French officer said to Ryan.

The latter saw that concealment was useless. It would soon be light enough for his scarlet uniform to be seen. He therefore replied, in broken French:

"My name is Ryan. I hold the rank of captain. I was riding to Miranda when, unfortunately, I fell in with your troopers as they were halted. I did not hear and, of course, could not see them until I was among them."

[Illus: 'Search him at once.']

"Riding with despatches, no doubt," the officer said. "Search him at once, men. He might destroy them."

"Here they are, sir," Ryan said, taking the despatches from inside his jacket. "You need not have me searched. I give you my word of honour, as a British officer, that I have no others on me."

"Put him in the middle of the troop, sergeant," the officer said. "Put a trooper in special charge of him, on each side. Unbuckle his reins, and buckle them on to those of the troopers. Do you ride behind him, and keep a sharp lookout upon him. It is an important capture."

Five minutes later, the squadron again started on their way south. Ryan, after silently cursing his bad luck at having arrived at the spot just as this body of cavalry were crossing, wondered what evil fortune had sent them there, at that precise moment. He was not long in arriving at a conclusion. The convoy of the French wounded had arrived at Zamora, late in the evening; and the commandant, thinking it likely that the enemy, who had hitherto blocked the roads, might have concentrated for the attack on the column, had decided upon sending off a squadron of cavalry to carry the important news he had learned, from the wounded, of the defeat of the column, five thousand strong, coming to his relief from Valladolid.

The party proceeded at a brisk trot, and, meeting with no resistance, arrived at Salamanca by ten o'clock in the morning. The officer in command at once rode with Ryan, the latter guarded by four troopers, to the residence of the general. Leaving Dick with his escort outside, he entered the house, and sent in his name, and the duty with which he was charged, to the general. He was at once shown into his room.

"I congratulate you on having got through, Captain D'Estrelles," the general said, as he entered. "It is ten days since we heard from Zamora. We have sent off six messengers, I don't know whether any of them have arrived."

"No, sir, none of them. The commandant sent off one or two, every day; and I suppose they, like those you sent, were all stopped."

"The whole country seems on fire," the general said. "We have had five or six parties come in here disarmed, who had been captured by the enemy; and it would seem that all our posts on the road to Zamora, and on that to Valladolid, have been captured. The men could only report that they were suddenly attacked by such overwhelming forces that resistance was impossible. They say that the whole country seems to swarm with guerillas, but there are certainly a considerable number of regular troops among them. What has happened at Zamora?"

"These despatches will inform you, sir; but I may tell you that we are virtually beleaguered. The country round swarms with the enemy. Two or three reconnaissances in force met with the most determined opposition."

"Are you in communication with Valladolid?"

"No, sir. Our communications were stopped at the same time as those to this town; but I am sorry to say that you will see, by the general's despatch, that a severe disaster has happened to the column coming from Valladolid to our relief."

The general took the despatch and rapidly perused its contents.

"A column five thousand strong, with cavalry and guns, repulsed! The enemy must be in force, indeed. From the estimates we have received from prisoners they released, I thought they must be fully ten thousand strong. I see that the wounded who were sent by Moras estimate those engaged with him at twelve thousand; and it is hardly probable that they could, at such short notice, have assembled in anything like their full strength."

"I have also to report, general, that we, this morning before daybreak, captured a British officer on his way to Miranda, with despatches. We were fortunately halted for the moment, so that he was unaware of our presence until he rode into the midst of us. These are his despatches. I have not opened them."

"It is an important capture, indeed," the general said; "that is, if the report contains details of the fighting. Its contents may enable us to form a clearer idea than we can, at present, of their numbers."

He broke the seal and read the account of the battle.

"It is signed T. O'Connor, colonel," he said. "The name is well-known to us as that of a very active partisan leader. Three of the columns appear to have been commanded by British officers. Here we have them: Major Bull, Major Macwitty, and Captain Ryan."

"It is Captain Ryan whom we have made prisoner, sir."

"Their dispositions appear to have been good, and ably worked out. The bridge across the river had been destroyed, and our crossing was opposed by one column. While we were attempting to force the passage, three more columns attacked us, one on each flank and rear; while a fourth, composed of a portion of the force defending the passage who, as soon as we were fairly engaged with the other columns, crossed the ford lower down, leaving a thousand men to face us on the river bank, advanced against our left. Finding themselves thus greatly outnumbered, the column fell back, leaving behind them some five hundred dead and wounded. Their passage was closed by the enemy, who had broken down some bridges and thrown a breastwork across the valley; but after sharp fighting they made their way through."

He then turned to the other despatch.

"This is still more useful," he said. "It is a general report of their proceedings since they crossed the frontier, and gives the number of each column. They total up to twenty-five thousand men; of which some ten thousand seem to be regular troops, the rest guerillas."

"Do you wish to see the prisoner, sir? He is waiting with the guard, outside."

"Yes, I might as well see him though, as a point of fact, he can give us no more information than that contained in these reports, which are very full and detailed."

"So, sir," he said when Ryan was brought in, "you are a British officer."

"I am, sir," Dick replied quietly. "At present on detached duty, serving on the staff of Colonel O'Connor."

"Who is with the guerilla chief, Moras," the general said.

"Yes, sir. The troops under Colonel O'Connor have been acting in concert with Moras, and other forces; much to the advantage of such of your soldiers as fell into our hands, not one of whom has suffered insult or injury; and all have been permitted to go free, after being deprived of their arms. Colonel O'Connor also sent away all the French wounded who fell into our hands after the battle, in waggons, escorted by a strong body of his troops to within a mile of Zamora; in order to protect them from massacre by the peasants."

"He behaved, sir, as a British officer would be expected to behave," the general said warmly. "Were the war always conducted on the same principle, it would be better for both armies and for the people of this country. I will place you on parole, if you choose."

"I thank you, General, but I would rather have my hands free, should I see any opportunity of escaping."

"That you are not likely to do," the general said, "for if you refuse to be bound by your parole, I must take measures against your having any of these opportunities that you speak of, until the country is cleared and you can be sent with a convoy to France. I am sorry that you refuse but, as I should do so myself, under similar circumstances, I cannot blame you."

Accordingly, Ryan was taken to a strong prison in the heart of the city; where, however, he was assigned comfortable quarters, a sentry being placed at his door and, as the window that looked into the courtyard was strongly barred, his chances of escape seemed slight, indeed; and he was almost inclined to regret that he had not accepted the general's offer, and given his parole not to attempt to escape.

Two days later one of Moras's men, who belonged to Salamanca, went into the town to see some friends, and brought back the news that a British officer had been captured by a party of French dragoons, coming from Zamora. He had been seen by many of the townspeople as he sat on his horse, with four troopers round him, at the door of the governor's house. He had been lodged in the city prison. A comparison of dates showed that there could be no doubt that the prisoner was Dick Ryan, and Terence was greatly vexed at his loss.

"So far as the despatches go," he said to Herrara--who had, on the day before, arrived from their stronghold, which was now safe from attack, "there can be no doubt that it is fortunate rather than otherwise that they have fallen into the hands of the French; for they will give them an altogether exaggerated impression of our strength, and I have no doubt that the orderly who left, two hours later, has got through in safety. Still, I am greatly annoyed that Ryan has been made prisoner. I miss his services and companionship very much and, if I can possibly get him out, I will do so. I will see Moras, and ask him to send the man who brought the news back again, to gather further particulars. I would take the matter in hand myself but, being in command here, I must consider the duty with which I am intrusted before a question of private friendship."

Moras presently came in to see Terence and, when the latter told him what he wanted, he undertook at once to obtain every detail possible as to the place of Ryan's confinement.

"A number of my men come from the town," he said, "and I will cause inquiries to be made among them, at once; and choose half a dozen, with connections who may be able to assist, and send them into Salamanca; with instructions to act in concert, to ascertain whether it is possible to do anything by bribery, to endeavour to communicate with the prisoner, and to devise some plan for his escape from the gaol.

"It was a strong place before the French came. It was the city prison; but they took it over, and have used it not only for prisoners of war, but for persons suspected of being in communication with your people, and even for officers of their own army who have been convicted of insubordination or disobedience of orders, or other offences. One of the men I will send, and to whom I shall intrust the general arrangement of the matter, is one of my lieutenants, Leon Gonzales. He has been a friend of mine since boyhood, and entered as a law student when I went into the college for divinity. He is daring and fearless. He has an excellent head, and a large acquaintance among the young men at the university and, indeed, in all classes of society. He belongs to one of our best families."

"Yes, of course I know him," Terence said. "He has several times come with you, when you have ridden over; and was in command of the detachment that was with me, when we captured the French garrison at Tordesillas. I was much pleased with him and, although too occupied to see much of him, I conceived a great liking for him. I should say that he is just the man to manage this business successfully, if it is possible to do so."

"At all events, I will despatch him with six other men, whom he may choose himself, this afternoon," Moras said. "I had intended him to remain in command of the party we leave here when we march, tonight; but I will hand that over to another."

That night the force, with the exception of 500 guerillas and as many of the Minho regiment, marched away from the station they occupied to take up a new position, between Valladolid and Valencia. Herrara was to remain behind, in command of the 500 Portuguese. These, in conjunction with the guerillas, were to occupy their old positions; stopping all lines of communication, showing themselves in villages and towns hitherto unvisited and, divided into parties of two or three hundred, march rapidly about the country, so that the fact that the main body had moved elsewhere should be unknown to the French authorities, who would therefore believe that the force that was to cut the road north of Valladolid was a newly-arrived one.

Thirty-six hours later Terence, with a battalion and a half of his regiment and 1500 of Moras's guerillas, took up their position in the mountains lying to the east of Valencia, between the rivers Esqueva and Arlanza. From this position they could, with equal facility, come down on the road between Valladolid and Valencia, or between the latter town and Burgos. Here for some weeks they maintained themselves, in the first place falling upon convoys from Valladolid south and, when these only moved forward under escorts too strong to be attacked, carrying on their operations on the road to Burgos. In these raids they obtained an abundance of provisions, a considerable number of arms and much ammunition and, in two or three instances, a large amount of treasure that was being taken forward for the payment of the troops.

The provisions and wine were amply sufficient for the support of the force. Half the money was set aside for future needs, being divided between the regimental chest of Moras and that of the Minho regiment. The other half was similarly divided as prize money among the men, a proportion being sent down to Herrara, for his command.

The operations of the band caused immense annoyance and difficulty to the French. It was no longer possible to travel by the main road from France between Burgos and Valladolid, and thence down to Salamanca or Zamora, without the convoys being accompanied by strong bodies of troops. Several incursions into the mountains were organized from Burgos, which was always a great military centre, aided by detachments from Valencia; but these met with no success whatever. On entering the passes they were assailed by a heavy fire from invisible foes. Great rocks were rolled down upon them; and when, after much loss, they succeeded in forcing their way up to the hills, no traces of their foe could be discovered.

As among Moras's guerillas were natives of both Burgos and Valencia, and these had put themselves in communication with their friends, the band was kept well informed of every movement of the French, and received early intelligence when a convoy, or an expedition into the hills, was on the point of setting out, and of the exact strength of the military force employed. They were, therefore, always prepared either to sally out for an attack on the convoy, or to oppose an expedition as soon as it entered the mountains. Their stores were hidden away among rocks, being divided into several portions so that, should the French by fortune or treachery discover one of these, the loss would not cripple them.

Their greatest enemy was cold. It was now the end of October, and several times snow had fallen, and it was necessary to keep up large fires. This was a double inconvenience. In the first place, the smoke by day and the flames by night might betray the position of their camp; and in the second place, their tracks in the snow, which would speedily cover the hills, would enable the enemy to follow them wherever they moved. It was therefore determined that they could no longer maintain their position there, but must return to the plains.

Frequent communication had been kept up with Herrara, who reported that Salamanca was now occupied by so large a force that he was no longer able to maintain his position; and that he had fallen back across the Douro, and had established himself in the stronghold, from which he made frequent excursions towards Zamora and Benavente.

To Dick Ryan, in his prison, the first fortnight had passed slowly. That Terence would, as soon as he learned of his capture, make every effort to free him he knew well; but he could not see how he could give him any material aid. The French force at Salamanca was far too strong to admit of a possibility of any attempt to rescue him by force, and the barred windows and the sentry seemed to close every chance of communication from without. On the tenth day of his imprisonment, he noticed that the sergeant who brought his food had been changed.

"What has become of Sergeant Pipon?" he asked the non-commissioned officer who filled his place.

"He was killed yesterday evening, in the streets," the man replied. "It was not an ordinary broil, for he had half-a-dozen dagger stabs. It is some time since those dogs of Spaniards have killed a French soldier in the town, and there is a great fuss over it. The municipality will have to pay 10,000 dollars, if they cannot produce his murderer. It is curious, too, for Pipon was not a man to get drunk. He did not speak a word of the language, and therefore could not have had a dispute with a Spaniard.

"We have been ordered to be more vigilant than before. I suppose the authorities think that perhaps there was some attempt to bribe him and, on his seizing the man who made it, some of the fellow's comrades rushed upon him, and killed him."

Ryan wondered whether the supposition was a correct one, and whether the men concerned had been set at work by Terence, in order to effect his release. Two days later, on cutting the loaf that formed his day's ration of bread, he found a small piece of paper in its centre. It had evidently been put there before the bread was baked for, although he examined it very closely, he could find no sign in the crust of an incision by which the note might have been inserted. It contained only the words:

"Keep your eyes open, and be in readiness. Friends are working for your release."

So Terence was at work. Evidently the baker had been gained over, but how it had been contrived that this special loaf should have been handed to him he could not imagine; unless one of the men in charge of the distribution of the prison rations had been bribed. That something of the sort must have taken place he was certain and, although he was still unable to imagine how he could be got out of the prison, he felt that, in some way or another, Terence would manage it. He thought over the means by which the latter had escaped from the convent, but the laxity that had there prevailed, in allowing people to come in to sell their goods to the prisoners, was not permitted in the prison where he was confined. The prisoners were, indeed, allowed to take exercise for an hour in the courtyard, but no civilian ever entered it, and twelve French soldiers watched every movement of those in the yard, and did not permit a single word to be exchanged.

Another week passed, and Ryan began to fear that his friends outside had abandoned the scheme as impossible, when one day he received another message:

"Do not undress tonight. On reaching the courtyard, take the first passage to the right. Follow it to the end. The bars of the window there have been nearly sawn through. Inclosed with this is a saw. Finish the work on the middle bars. You will find a cord hanging down outside. Friends will be awaiting you."

With the note was a very fine steel saw, coiled round and round, and a tiny phial of oil. Ryan gave a cry of delight as he read it; and then hid the saw and the oil bottle in his bed, made up the tiny note into a pellet, and swallowed it. As he ate his dinner, he pondered over how so much could have been managed. The courtyard of the prison was, he knew, some ten feet higher than the ground outside. Some one must, after nightfall, have climbed up to the passage window and sawn the bars almost asunder, with a saw as fine as the one he had received. The cuts could hardly have been perceptible, and had probably been filled in with dust or black lead, each night, after the work was done. The difficulty must have been great, for he had learned that sentries patrolled the street outside the prison, and the work could only have been carried on for two or three minutes at a time. How he was to get down to the courtyard he knew not, but probably a sentry had been found more amenable to a bribe than the old sergeant had been.

To his bitter disappointment the night passed without anything unusual taking place, and the scheme had evidently failed. He broke up his loaf eagerly the next morning; and found, as he expected, another message:

"Authorities suspicions. Sentries changed. Must wait till vigilance subsides. Keep yourself in readiness."

A fortnight passed; and then, in the middle of the night, he leapt suddenly from the bed on which he had thrown himself, without undressing, as he heard the key grating in the door. For a minute or two the sound continued, and his heart sank again.

"They have got a key, but it won't fit," he muttered.

Suddenly he heard the bolt shoot back, and the door quietly opened.

"Are you ready?" a voice asked in a whisper.

"Quite ready."

"Then follow me."

Ryan had caught up his boots as he leapt from the bed. The man outside had evidently taken the precaution to remove his, for his step was perfectly noiseless. Dick followed him downstairs and out into the courtyard. He could then see that the man was not, as he had expected, in uniform; but wore a long cloak and a sombrero, like those in general use among the peasantry. He turned in at the passage that had been indicated to Ryan, and stopped at the grated opening at the end.

Ryan at once took out the saw, poured some oil on it, and passed his nail down the bar until he found a fine nick. Clearing this out with the saw, he began to cut. The task was far easier than he had expected, for the bar had been already almost sawn through and, in five minutes, the cut was completed. A couple of feet higher up he found the other incision, and completed it as quietly as before. Then he removed the piece cut out, and handed it to the man, who laid it quietly down on the pavement of the passage.

In ten minutes the other bar was removed.

"I have the cord," the man said, and unwound some ten feet of stout rope from his waist.

Ryan put his head out through the hole, and looked down. In the darkness he could see nothing, but he heard the heavy tread of two sentries. As the sound of their footsteps faded away in the distance, he heard a sudden exclamation and a slight movement and, a few seconds later, a voice below asked in a whisper:

"Are you there?"

"Yes," Ryan replied joyfully.

Putting a noose which was at one end of the rope over the stump of one of the bars, he at once slid down. A moment later, the other man descended after him.

"This way, senor," the voice said and, taking his hand, led him across the street; and then, after a quarter of a mile's walk, stopped at the door of a large house. He opened this with a key, and led the way up the stairs to the second floor; opened another door, and said:

"Enter, senor, you are at home."

Ryan had noticed that the man who had released him had not followed them, but had turned away as soon as they left the prison.

"You are most welcome, senor," his guide said as, opening another door, he led the way into a handsome apartment, where a lamp was burning on the table.

"First let me introduce myself," he said. "My name is Alonzo Santobel, by profession an advocate. I am a friend of Don Leon Gonzales, one of Moras's officers, whom I believe you know. He will be here in a minute or two. He has followed us at a distance, to be sure that we were not watched. He enlisted me in this enterprise, and I have gladly given my assistance, which indeed was confined to bringing you here. All the rest he has managed himself, with the aid of six of his men who accompanied him here. He has been longer over it than he had expected, but we had difficulties that we did not anticipate."

He spoke in French, but added: "I understand sufficient Portuguese to follow anything that you say, senor."

"I am indeed grateful to you all," Ryan said warmly. "It is good of you, indeed, to run so great a risk for a stranger."

"Not exactly a stranger, senor, since you are a friend of my friend, Leon Gonzales."

At this moment the door of the room opened, and the officer named entered and warmly shook hands with Ryan, and congratulated him cordially on his release.

"Thanks to you, senor," Dick said gratefully.

"It has been a matter of duty, as well as pleasure," the other replied courteously; "for Moras committed the task of freeing you to my hands."

"I have just been telling Senor Ryan," the other said, "that you found it somewhat more difficult than you expected."

"Yes, indeed. In the first place, my face is known to so many here and, unhappily, so many Spaniards are friends of the French, that I dared not show myself in the streets, in the daytime. And before I tell my story, Alonzo, please open a bottle of wine, and produce a box of cigars. Our friend has not had a chance of a decent smoke since he has been shut up.

"Now, senor, I will tell you all about it," he went on, as soon as the glasses were filled and the cigars lighted. "In the first place, one of the men with me has a cousin who works for the baker who contracts for the supply of bread to the prison and, fortunately, it was one of his duties to go with the bread, to hand it over and see it weighed. That simplified affairs amazingly. In the next place, it was necessary to get hold of the soldier who usually handed the bread to the non-commissioned officers, who each took the rations for the prisoners under their special charge. I had been well provided with money and, when the soldier came out one evening, I got into conversation with him. He assented willingly enough to my offer to have a bottle of good wine together. Then I opened the subject.

"'I believe you distribute the bread rations to the prisoners?" I said.

"He nodded.

"'I want one special loaf which is rather better bread than the rest, though it looks the same, to reach a prisoner who is a friend of mine. It may be that I shall want two or three such loaves to reach him, and I will not mind paying a hundred francs for each loaf.'

"'A hundred francs is a good sum,' he said, 'especially as our pay is generally some months in arrear; and there can be no harm in a prisoner getting one loaf, more than another. But how am I to know which is the loaf?'

"'It will be the last the baker's man will deliver to you, my friend. He will give you a wink as he hands it to you, and you will only have to put it on the tray intended for the English prisoner, Ryan, when the sergeant comes down to the kitchen for it. But mind, don't make any mistake and put it on the wrong tray.'

"'I will be careful,' the soldier said, 'and I don't mind how many loaves you send in, at the same price.'

"'Very well,' I said. 'Here are the hundred francs for the first loaf, which will come not tomorrow morning, but the day after.'

"So that part of the business was arranged easily enough; but another attempt, which I had set on foot at the same time, had already failed. My men had discovered who was the sergeant under whose charge you were. He was an old soldier, and I had my doubts whether he could be bribed. One of the men who spoke a little French undertook it, but took the precaution of having three of the others near him, when he attempted it. It was two or three evenings before he could get speech with him in a quiet place, but he managed at last to do so.

"'Sergeant,' he said, 'do you want to earn as much money, in a day, as your pay would amount to in a year?'

"'It depends how it would have to be earned,' the sergeant said cautiously.

"'We want to get a friend of ours out of that prison,' the man said, 'and would pay a thousand francs for your assistance.'

"The sergeant at once grasped him by the throat.

"'You attempt to bribe me!' he exclaimed. 'Parbleu! we will hear what the governor says about it;' and he began to drag him along.

"There was nothing to be done, and the three other men, who had been standing hidden in a doorway, ran out and poniarded the Frenchman before he had time to give the alarm. It was unfortunate, but it was unavoidable.

"However, two days later the loaf got safely to you; at least we were assured that it had done so, by the soldier in the kitchen. In the meantime I learned from a man who had been a warder in the prison, before the French took possession of it, that the passage close to the bottom of your staircase terminated at the barred window in the street behind. Two of my men undertook to cut the bars. It was no easy matter, for there were sentries outside, and one came along the back every two or three minutes. The men had a light ladder and, directly he had passed, ran across the street, placed it in position, and fell to work. But the constant interferences by the passing of the sentinel annoyed them, and greatly hindered the work.

"You see, the sentry had to patrol the lane down one side of the prison, then along behind, and back; so they had only the time taken by him from the corner to the end of the lane, and back, to work. They were so annoyed at this that one night, when the sentry came to be relieved, he was found stabbed to the heart and, as this misfortune happened just after he went on duty, the men managed to file one of the bars that night. Curiously enough, the same accident happened two nights later; just as I had arranged, with a Spaniard who had enlisted in the French army, that he would aid you to escape. He was a sharp fellow, and had managed to get the key of your room from the peg where it hung, and to take an impression of it in wax, from which we had a key made.

"Everything was now ready. The other bar was sawn on, the night the accident happened to the second sentry. The next night the Spaniard was to be on guard on your staircase, and I sent you a loaf with a message to be in readiness. Unfortunately, the second accident aroused the suspicion of the authorities that these affairs had something to do with the escape of a prisoner. Accordingly, the sentries outside were doubled, two men patrolling together and, that evening, the guards were suddenly changed.

"It was evident that, for a time, nothing could be done. For nearly a fortnight this dodging about of the guard continued; then, as all was quiet, things went back to their old course. Four sentries were taken off, the others going about two together, each pair taking two sides of the prison. This morning my Spaniard who, as he was on duty at night, was able to come out into the town early, told the man who had arranged the affair with him that he would be on night duty; and would manage to take his place among the guards so that, when they arrived at your door, he should be the one to be left there. As the bread had been already sent in, I had no opportunity to warn you."

"I suppose the Spanish soldier you bribed has deserted?"

"Certainly. There was nothing else for him to do. He had that long cloak under his military greatcoat, and the sombrero flattened inside it so that, before opening your door, he had only to stand his musket in the corner, laying his greatcoat and shako by it, and he was in a position to go through the streets, anywhere, as a civilian. He has been well paid and, as he was already heartily tired of the French service, he jumped at the offer we made him."

After chatting for some time longer, and obtaining some more details of the proceedings of the rescue party, Ryan and Gonzales lay down for a few hours' sleep on the couches in the room; while their host turned into his bed, which he had vainly attempted to persuade one or other to accept. _

Read next: Chapter 16. Back With The Army

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