“Jack,” panted Alan, “the beast’s stabbing.  Get yourself loose and find the electric light.”

As he spoke, Alan’s hand found the gaoler’s throat.  He knew it was not Alan’s from the rough beard that covered it.  The gaoler, maddened by the pressure, stabbed with fresh fury; most of his blows, fortunately, going wild in the darkness.

Alan’s free hand reached for and located the arm that was wielding the bayonet, and for a moment the two wrestled desperately for its possession.

Then a key clicked, and the room was flooded with incandescent light, just as Alan, releasing his grip on the Russian’s throat, dealt him a short-arm blow on the chin with all the power of his practiced muscles.  The gaoler relaxed his tense limbs and lay still, while Alan, bleeding and exhausted, struggled to his feet.

“Hot work, eh?” he panted.  “Hard position to land a knockout from.  But I caught him just right.  He’ll trouble us no more for a few minutes, I fancy.  You’re bleeding!  Did he wound you?”

“Only a scratch along my check.  And you?”

“A cut on the wrist and another on the shoulder, I think.  Neither of them bad, thanks to the lack of aim in the dark.  Close call, that!  Now to tie them up.  Not a movement from either yet.”

“You must have come close to killing them with those sledge-hammer blows of yours!”

“It doesn’t much matter,” said the imperturbable pugilist, “they’ll be all right in half an hour.  It’s knowing where to hit.  If there are only four men downstairs, we don’t need to wear the clothes of these beasts.  Let us take only the bunch of keys and the revolvers.”

Securing these the two stepped out into the passage, locked and bolted the door; then Jack, who knew his way, proceeded along the passage to the stairway, leaped nimbly up the steps, bolted the door leading to the military quarters, then descended and bolted the bottom door.

“Now for the clerk, and then for the Governor.”

The clerk’s room connected with the armory, which was reached by passing through the apartment that held turbine and dynamo, which they found purring away merrily.

Covering the frightened clerk with four revolvers, Jack told him in Russian that if he made a sound it would be his last.  They took him, opened cell Number Three, which was empty, and thrust him in.

Jangling the keys, the two entered the Governor’s room.  The ancient man looked up, but not a muscle of his face changed; even his fishy eyes showed no signs of emotion or surprise.

“Governor,” said Jack with deference, “although you are under the muzzles of a quartet of revolvers, no harm is intended you.  However, you must not leave your place until you accompany us down to the boat, when I shall hand the keys over to you, and in cell Number One you will find gaoler and lantern man a little worse for wear, perhaps, but still in the ring, I hope.  In Number Three your