longer allowed, undisturbed,
to blast his way to success. Almost before the iron door had struck
the floor of the corridor there leaped into the opening the burly
figure of the turnkey. In one hand he held a revolver, in the other a
lantern. Lifting the lantern above his head, he stood balancing
himself upon the fallen grating. Hanging to his belt, Roddy saw a
bunch of keys. The sight of the keys went to his head like swift
poison. For them he suddenly felt himself capable of murder. The dust
hung in a cloud between the two men, and before the turnkey could
prepare for the attack Roddy had flung himself on him and, twisting
the bones of his wrist, had taken the revolver. With one hand on the
throat of the turnkey he shoved the revolver up under his chin until
the circle of steel sank into the flesh.

"Don't cry out!" whispered Roddy. "Do as I tell you, or I'll blow your
head off. Take me to the cell of General Rojas!"

Brave as the man had been the moment before, the kiss of the
cold muzzle turned his purpose to ice. The desire to live was
all-compelling. Choking, gasping, his eyes rolling appealingly, he
nodded assent. With the revolver at his back he ran down the corridor,
and, as he ran, without further direction, fumbled frantically at his
keys. At the end of the corridor he separated one from the others, and
with a trembling hand unlocked and pushed open a cell door.

The cell was steeped in darkness. Roddy threw the turnkey sprawling
into it, and with his free hand closed his fingers over the key in the
lock.

"General Rojas!" he called. "Come out! You are free!"

A shadowy figure suddenly confronted him; out of the darkness a voice,
fearless and unshaken, answered.

"What do you wish with me?" demanded the voice steadily. "Is this
assassination? Are you my executioner?"

"Good God, no!" cried Roddy. "Fifty-four, four! I'm the man that gave
you the warning. The tunnel!" he cried. "The tunnel is open." He
shoved the butt of the revolver toward the shadow. "Take this!" he
commanded; "if I've lied to you, shoot me. But come!"

General Rojas stepped from the cell, and with a cry of relief Roddy
swung to the iron door upon the turnkey and locked it. The act seemed
to reassure the older man, and as the glare of the lanterns in the
corridor fell upon Roddy's face the eyes of the General lit with hope
and excitement. With a cry of remorse he held out the revolver.

"I was waiting to die," he said. "Can you forg