"See, Tim, there is my regimental cap, with its gold lace. Let us
fasten it outside the bars, with a thread from that rug. Of course, we
must remove it when we hear anyone coming."
This was speedily done and, for the next few days, one or other
remained constantly at the window.
"Mr. Charles!" Tim exclaimed in great excitement, one day; "there is a
man I've been watching, for the last half hour. He seems to be picking
up sticks, but all the while he keeps getting nearer and nearer, and
two or three times it seems to me that he has looked up in this
direction."
Charlie joined Tim at the window.
"Yes, Tim, you are right. That's Hossein, I'm pretty sure."
The man had now approached within two or three hundred yards of the
corner of the wall. He was apparently collecting pieces of dried
brushwood, for firing. Presently, he glanced in the direction of the
window. Charlie thrust his arm through the bar, and waved his hand.
The man threw up his arm with a gesture which, to a casual observer,
would have appeared accidental; but which the watchers had no doubt,
whatever, was intended for them. He was still too far off from them to
be able to distinguish his features, but they had not the least doubt
that it was Hossein.
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