The major has put it on record that those two hours appeared to him the longest that ever he passed in his life, and Tom, no doubt, would endorse the sentiment.  Everything must have an end, however, and the station clock, the hands of which seemed several times to have stopped altogether, began at last to approach the hour at which the Portsmouth train was timed to depart.  Baumser and his two friends had come back, all three smoking cigarettes, and looking the better for their visit to the cookshop.  The five got into a first-class railway carriage and waited.  Would they never have done examining tickets and stamping luggage and going through all sorts of tedious formalities?  At last, thank God! comes the shrill whistle of the guard, the answering snort from the engine, and they are fairly started upon their mission of rescue.

There was much to be arranged as to their plan of action.  Tom, Von Baumser, and the major talked it over in a low voice, while the two Socialists chatted together in German and consumed eternal cigarettes.  Tom was for marching straight up to the Priory and demanding that Girdlestone should deliver his ward up to them.  To the major and the German this seemed an unwise proceeding.  It was to put themselves hopelessly wrong from a legal point of view.  Girdlestone had only to say, as he assuredly would, that the whole story was a ridiculous mare’s nest, and then what proof could they adduce, or what excuse give for their interference.  However plausible their suspicions might be, they were, after all, only suspicions, which other people might not view in as grave a light.

“What would you advise, then?” Tom asked, passing his hand over his heated forehead.

“Bedad!  I’ll tell you the plan,” the old soldier answered, “and I think me friend Von Baumser will agray with me.  I understand that this place is surrounded by a wall to which there is only one gate.  Sure, we shall wait outside this wall, and one of us can go in as a skirmisher and find out how the land lies.  Let him ascertain from the young lady herself if she requires immadiate help, and what she would wish done.  If he can’t make his way to her, let him hang about the house, and see and hear all that he can.  We shall then have something solid to work on.  I have a dog whistle here on me watch-chain, given me by Charley Gill, of the Inniskillens.  Our skirmisher could take that with him, and if he wants immadiate help one blow of it would be enough to bring the four of us over to him.  Though how the divil I am to git over a wall,” concluded the major ruefully, looking down at his own proportions, “is more than I can tell.”

“I hope, my vriends,” said Von Baumser, “dat you vill allow me the honour of going first, for ven I vas in the Swabian Jager I vas always counted a very good spion.”

“That is my place,” said Tom with decision.