Passions of War Read Online Free PDF Page B

sleep for either of them. Before long the candle burnt out, leaving them in pitch darkness. The floor was hard and cold in spite of the sacking and now they were silent they could hear rustlings and scufflings all around them. Once Tom felt something run across his legs. The hours passed slowly but eventually Tom surfaced from a deeper doze and saw that the cellar was no longer completely dark. Away at the far end there was a faint gleam of light that seemed to be coming from the roof. Ralph was asleep, snoring faintly, so Tom got up carefully and groped his way towards the light. Looking up, he saw that it was coming through a small crack and that what he had taken for a solid ceiling was, at that point, made up of boards. At that moment he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps above his head and then what sounded like wheels.
    He returned to where Ralph was lying and shook him awake. ‘Listen, I think I may have found a way out.’
    Ralph sat up immediately. ‘Where? How?’
    â€˜Over here.’ Tom led him to the point where the light was filtering in. ‘You know what I think? This was once a beer cellar. It certainly smells like one and there are barrels here. Think of pubs at home. How does the beer get delivered?’
    â€˜Oh, I’m with you!’ Ralph exclaimed. ‘There’s a trapdoor in the pavement outside and when the brewer’s dray arrives they just open the trap and roll the barrels down into the cellar. So that trapdoor leads straight out on to the street.’
    â€˜If I’m right,’ Tom agreed.
    â€˜I’m certain you are! What time is it?’
    â€˜Just after six a.m.’
    â€˜So not too many people about yet, with any luck. Do you think we can force that trap open?’
    â€˜I won’t know till we try. First of all we have to find a way of reaching it.’
    A further search of the cellar in the faint light revealed several empty barrels but even when standing on one neither of them could reach the trapdoor. They piled one on another and Tom made a stirrup out of his hands so that Ralph could climb on to them. That was far from ideal because now he was too high up and had to work in a semi-crouching position, but at least he was able to find the two bolts that held the door.
    â€˜They’re rusted solid,’ he reported. ‘It’s going to be the devil’s own job getting them free.’
    â€˜Wait a minute,’ Tom said. He groped around until he found the remains of the candle sitting in a puddle of congealed wax. ‘Try working some of this into them.’
    It took the two of them, working in turn, over an hour to free the bolts but eventually Ralph was able to report, ‘Right, I can move them now. But when I pull them out the trap will drop down and it will be open to the street.’
    â€˜Just pray no one is about to walk across,’ Tom said. ‘Otherwise they might be joining us down here, with a broken leg.’
    â€˜Pray Princip or one of the others isn’t standing guard with his gun ready,’ Ralph retorted. ‘When I open the trap, we need to be out as fast as we can. I’ll climb out and then pull you up. Can you manage that?’
    â€˜I’ll have to,’ Tom said.
    â€˜Ready, steady, go!’ Ralph said, and pulled out both bolts. The trapdoor dropped open with a creak of hinges, showering Tom with dust, and Ralph grabbed the edges of the opening and hauled himself up. His efforts dislodged the top barrel and Tom had to jump aside to avoid it. He heard a small scream and a woman’s voice raised in remonstration and Ralph’s apology in mangled Serbian. Then Ralph leaned into the hole and stretched out his arm.
    â€˜Come on, quick!’
    Tom climbed on to the barrel that remained in place, grabbed Ralph’s hand and jumped. His free hand reached the wooden frame round the opening, and he felt splinters pierce the flesh. He hung for a moment, kicking his