On the First of April the Pimple had let slip a morsel of valuable information. He told us that the Changri prisoners were coming to Yozgad in charge of their own Commandant and Interpreter.

“That solves one difficulty,” I said to Hill, after the Pimple had gone away.

“How?”

“For the escape stunt. If we persuade them to send us to the coast all three will want to come with us, because they don’t trust each other. But if they can leave the Changri Commandant and Interpreter in charge of this camp it should be easy enough for Kiazim and the Pimple to get away. The Cook can always come as Kiazim’s orderly.”

“You mean,” said Hill, “that you expect all three to come with us to the coast?”

“More than that,” said I. “I’ve a plan for getting them to provide a boat for us. I believe if they do so they will be too frightened to give the alarm when we bolt, and we’d get a good start.”

In his function as critic Hill listened to my plan for persuading the Turks to get us a boat. Then he sat silent for some time.

“Good enough,” he said at last, “but why leave the Turks behind? Why not take them with us in the boat? In short, why not kidnap ’em?”

It was my turn to sit silent.

“I believe we two could sandbag three Turks any day,” Hill grinned, “and it would be some stunt to hand over a complete prison camp Staff to the authorities in Cyprus. The giddy old War Office would be quite amused, I do believe, and a laugh would cheer them up. And think of the British public! If the German communiquÉs are true our folks should be in the dumps just now, with our armies in France being pushed about, and Paris being shelled and all the rest of it. It would do ’em a power of good to see a par. about us in their breakfast newspapers! Think of the heading: ‘Kidnapping of Yozgad Camp Officials’—‘Spoofed by a Spook.’ And think of the joy of Sir Oliver Lodge!”

“There’s another point,” said I. “If they were with us they couldn’t raise the alarm.”

“That settles it, doesn’t it?” Hill asked.

It did. We decided to kidnap as many of the Turks as we could.

On his next visit the Doc. carried away in his pocket a rough skeleton of our two plans (i.) for kidnapping the Commandant, and (ii.) for shamming mad. We asked him to give us his advice, especially about the madness, and also to discuss the plans with three men who had taken risks by sending us messages during our imprisonment, and on whose sound judgment we relied. These were Matthews, Price, and Hickman. We asked them to help us for the kidnapping stunt by procuring us a map of the south coast, morphia (to drug the Turks with) and an adze to use as a weapon should morphia and sandbags fail. We thought we could carry one adze for chopping firewood without causing any suspicion.

In reply we got a letter from Matthews. It was a good letter, and the talk in it was as straight as the writer. He said he thought the madness plan was impossible. But he thoroughly approved of the kidnapping. He did not want to “butt in” at the eleventh hour, after most of the hard work had been done, but if we could do it without upsetting our plans he would be most uncommon glad to be allowed to join our party. Would we take him? He could sail a boat with anyone, with or without a compass, and could do his share in a scrap.

We discussed his letter very carefully. We replied that there was nobody in the camp we would rather take as a companion, and that he would be most useful to us if we could fit him in. Our acceptance of him as a third member of our party was, however, conditional. We warned him that if at any time we found his presence was endangering our escape, we should “throw him overboard” without compunction. And on the ground that we knew more about spooking than he did, we demanded unquestioning obedience. He gave the promise we required with alacrity, and we set to work.

Our first step the reader has seen—we persuaded the Turks that it would be necessary to move us. At the same time we sent Kiazim Bey to the official Turkish doctors in Yozgad with a carefully prepared story of his ill-health. Kiazim was a victim to biliary colic, and we learned privately from Doc. O’Farrell what he ought to say in order to induce the Turkish doctors to believe he might be suffering from stone in the hepatic duct. Under orders from the Spook he said it, and the Turkish doctors gave him their written recommendation for three months’ leave. He was very grateful to the Spook who, in his opinion, had “controlled” the Turkish doctors, and he told us that Constantinople would undoubtedly grant him the leave on the strength of his medical certificate, especially as he could hand over charge to the Changri Commandant, who was coming with the next prisoners.

The question of leave for the Pimple and the Cook was simple. The Commandant could—and would—grant it.

So far as the three Turks were concerned, the difficulty of leaving Yozgad was thus solved. There remained Hill and myself, and if possible Matthews. We first thought of leaving Yozgad as members of the Afion party, intending to get the Commandant to separate us from the party at railhead (Angora). Here are the Spook’s instructions:

“Let the Superior go to Col. Maule or send word to him as follows:—The two officers Jones and Hill are now free but they will not be allowed to write letters during April. I am anxious to get rid of these two men, but have not yet heard if Constantinople wishes them kept here pending the completion of the enquiry as to their correspondent in the town. If they are not required here I shall send them to Afion. Will you please warn any two of the twenty officers nominated that their places may be taken by Jones and Hill? I have already informed Jones and Hill of this, and am permitting them to stay in the Colonels’ House till the party leaves for Afion.”

Next day (April 5th) the Pimple reported having given the Spook’s message to Colonel Maule, and showed to the spook-board the following reply from the Colonel:

The letter interested us because it showed that the Pimple had told the truth when he informed us of the previous attempt to get rid of “the black sheep.” It was also a trifle annoying, because it upset our plans a little. To have overridden the Colonel’s objections would have been easy, and I was on the point of making the Spook do so (this was one of the occasions when there had been no opportunity for consultation with Hill) when I was struck by the possibilities in one phrase—“there is only one who wants to stay here now.” This was what we wanted. It should be easy for Matthews to change places with that one, while Hill and I could be added to the party as far as Angora—we had no intention whatsoever of accompanying them further, or of allowing Matthews to do so. But there was not much time for reflection.

“What do you think of this? What do you advise?” MoÏse asked excitedly of the Spook.

Spook. “Do not forget your manners, MoÏse! I always say ‘good-evening’ to you.”

MoÏse. “I beg your pardon, Sir. I am very sorry.”

Spook. “All right. Now ask.” (MoÏse repeated the question). “Poor MoÏse! Poor MoÏse! This is terrible, is it not? You thought I wanted these two mediums to be in the twenty, did you not?” (Note.—This was “eyewash” talk—to gain me a little time to think out a reply.)

MoÏse. “Yes, Sir.”

Spook. “Ha! Ha! Ha! So did OOO. Listen! I cannot tell you my plans beforehand, because it will lead to interference. I wanted OOO to read your thoughts last night to deceive him into helping us. Yesterday several of the twenty did not want to go. Today all wanted to go. OOO did that.”

The Spook went on to explain that in addition to wasting OOO’s force on irrelevant matters, the real object of the message had been to let the camp know that the Commandant would send away Hill and myself as soon as possible, and so it was natural enough for us to remain in the Colonels’ House (where we were free to spook) instead of rejoining our respective messes. We would be sent away, but not to Afion. Then the following reply was dictated by the Spook:

MoÏse was to add, verbally, that “immediately on receipt of Colonel Maule’s objections, the Commandant had written to Constantinople asking for Hill and myself to be transferred to another camp.” And he was to let it be known that, though we would not be included in the Afion party, we would be added to it, and travel with it at least as far as Angora. This MoÏse did, and in due course reported that the reply “had comforted everybody.” Colonel Maule was very pleased, and thanked the Commandant.

The secret plan on which Hill and I were now working was perhaps sufficiently ingenious to merit a detailed description. The Turks, of course, did not know it beforehand, but were to be introduced to it bit by bit as it developed. It was as follows:

If all went well, then, the effect would be that Hill and I would be on the road with the Pimple, the Cook, and the Commandant, and once the Afion party had left us behind in the hotel at Angora, nobody would know anything about us. Yozgad officials would not worry because we had set out for Constantinople; Constantinople would not worry because they would not know we were coming. Angora prisoners’ camp would not worry because we would be under our own escort, and not “on their strength.” It is an exceptional Turk who is a busybody—they are too lazy to interfere with affairs that are not their concern—and the gold epaulettes on Bimbashi Kiazim Bey’s uniform would be guarantee enough of our respectability. To make ourselves as inconspicuous as possible Hill and I would dress in the rough Turkish soldiers’ uniform which had been issued to the British orderlies at Yozgad—we each had a suit of it—and discard all badges of rank. There was no reason why anyone in authority should question two British prisoners who looked like miserable and half-starved privates—the sight was too common. We might go anywhere in Turkey with Kiazim Bey, and before we left Yozgad Kiazim Bey would know that his job was to take us to the Mediterranean seaboard.

Our first task was to introduce the Turks, as carefully as possible, to the idea of taking us to the coast. Once that was accomplished we could tackle the Matthews problem.

We worked at tremendous pressure, and developed all our main points simultaneously. During the five days when we held up Constantinople’s order to release us. Doc. O’Farrell visited us daily and secretly instructed us in the symptoms of nervous breakdowns. He told the Pimple he thought our minds were affected, and the Pimple thought the Spook had “controlled” him into believing this. When we had thoroughly mastered the Doc.’s instructions, the Spook caused Kiazim to tell the camp we were free. The object of this, the Spook explained quite frankly to our Turkish confederates, was to enable us to have visitors, so that when visitors came we might be “controlled” by the Spook into most eccentric behaviour. The result, as the Spook pointed out, was that the camp thought us crazy. The Turks came to the conclusion we hoped they would reach—that the Spook intended to get the doctors to recommend our removal from Yozgad. Kiazim was greatly pleased with the idea, for the doctors’ recommendations would relieve him of all responsibility.

Our first visitors were Matthews and Price, who came in with the Doc. To them, when they came, I made my long-delayed confession that every “message” obtained through my “mediumship” had been of my own invention, and that not only the Turks but also my friends in the camp had been victimized. It was then, for the first time, that I realized how difficult it is to convince a True Believer of the truth. In spite of what I said, these three, who were all my own “converts,” tried to force me to admit that there was “something in spiritualism,” and that at least some of the messages for which I was responsible were “genuine.” They quoted the incidents of “Louise” and the code-test against me, and when I had explained these Matthews turned on me with, “Well, we have got one thing out of it, anyway! We have proved the possibility of telepathy. For I don’t believe that the show you two fellows gave at the concert could have been a fraud.” In reply Hill picked up a small notebook, and handed it to Matthews.

“There’s the code we used,” he said.

To tell a man that you have been “pulling his leg” and “making a fool of him” for your own ends is a very severe test of friendship, and for our friendship’s sake we had long dreaded this revelation. But we could not go on using these good fellows any longer without a full confession.

“Hill and I hope you can forgive us,” I concluded lamely.

“Forgive you!” cried Price. “I take my hat off to you! If there is anything we can do to help——”

“Count on us,” said Matthews, “we want to be in it.”

“Faith,” laughed the Doc., “I seem to be in it already, though it is little I knew it—an’ I mean to stay in it! From now on you’ve got to tell me everything. I couldn’t sleep o’ nights if you didn’t go on using me.”

And that is how the Submarine Man, and the Sapper, and the Scientist from Central Africa took their generous and gentle revenge.

For the rest the Spook was very thorough. It refused to allow us to wash, or shave, or sweep out our room. It made us infernally rude to many of our visitors. It controlled us into lodging wild accusations against our best friends. It made us refuse to go out, and ordered us to put a notice on our door—

Yet many good fellows forced their way in. Our condition distressed them. We were unshaven and dirty, our faces pale, drawn, and very thin. The fortnight’s starvation had put a wild look into our eyes. But our chief pride and horror was our hair—we had refrained from cutting it for the last two months, and now we did not brush it, so that it stood up round our heads like the quills of the fretful porcupine. To cap everything there was the studied filth of our room.

The best way to get a man to agree to a plan is to make him think it is of his own invention. This was the system we followed with the Turks. After the “explosion” the Turks had (of themselves, they thought) decided we must be moved from Yozgad. The Spook pointed out that two problems remained—how were we to be moved, and where were we to go? These, also, we caused the Turks to solve for us, in the way we wanted.

“I want to see you try the same problems as you are giving me to do,” said the Spook, “because when we all think together, it helps.”

MoÏse. “We thought you had a plan ready.”

Spook. “So I have, but I dare not tell it yet because of OOO. I want you all, the Sup. and the Cook too, to invent plans, because your thinking about these will confuse OOO, and so help me by reducing his force. Write down all your plans and bring them to me.”

The Commandant, the Cook, and the Pimple spent all their spare time manufacturing plans. They appealed to Hill and myself to help, but we turned out to be singularly uninventive, and beyond an occasional suggestion (calculated to put them on the right lines) they got nothing out of us. We excused ourselves for our failure by saying that the English are a very practical race and have no imagination. The three Turks thought that however good we might be as mediums, we were hopelessly dull at what MoÏse called “intrigue.”

Within 36 hours of the explosion, the Commandant, inspired by Doc. O’Farrell’s fears as to our sanity, produced the following plan. I quote it in full from the Pimple’s notes, and the reader can see for himself how near it came to being what we wanted:

“Écrire À Constantinople dÉclarant que deux officiers par suite du pouvoir qu’ils out de communiquer par telepathie et ayant abusÉ de ce pouvoir, sont dans un État mental excessif qui pourrait avoir une influence nÉfaste sur leur physique ou cerveau. Par consÉquence priÈre de les envoyer À Constantinople afin de les faire examiner par des spÉcialistes et de dÉcouvrir les moyens de les guÉrir. L’InterprÊte connaissant toutes ces questions, il serait utile de l’envoyer avec eux soit pour les empÊcher de tÂcher de communiquer soit pour les surveiller plus efficacement.”

There were several other plans by both MoÏse and Kiazim, who were certainly inventive enough. The poor old Cook could only think of one plan—he was an unimaginative person like ourselves. It was to get horses and clap us on them, and gallop gaily across country wherever the Spook might want us to go. The Cook would have done it, and Hill and I would have been only too delighted to do it, but for Kiazim it was much too open and direct. He wanted his own tracks well hidden before he moved, and would not countenance it—at this stage.

We were quite satisfied with Kiazim’s proposal as a basis for our plans. But we pretended to object to it very strongly. We said we were afraid we might be certified mad, and consequently lose our jobs when we returned to England after the war, as well as make our relatives anxious in the meantime. The Pimple asked for the Spook’s opinion on our objection, and the Spook was very angry.

“I do not say this is my plan,” said the Spook, “but I warn you if I order anything you must do it. IF YOU DISOBEY YOUR PUNISHMENT WILL BE REAL MADNESS! Choose! Obedience or real madness!”

“Obedience, absolute obedience!” said Hill and I together, “and please look after us.”

“Don’t worry,” said the Spook, and then announced its intention of developing the plan, but went no further for the present. (Note.—The lines on which we would develop it have already been indicated to the reader—paragraphs 1 and 2 of the plan above.)

The how of our going having been solved, the Spook turned to the question of where we were to go. It suggested that the medical leave on which Kiazim’s mind was now set could be usefully employed for three purposes simultaneously; first, finding the treasure, second, curing the Commandant’s disease, and third, giving the mediums a well-deserved holiday and bringing them back to Yozgad with their health fully restored. Where, then, would Kiazim like to go for a holiday? Kiazim thought Constantinople would be the very place, for AAA was there; we could read his thoughts and find the third clue, and have a most excellent time. The Spook agreed that Constantinople would be first-rate for those purposes, provided AAA had not gone on tour to Tarsus or somewhere of that sort, but unfortunately a big town would be most prejudicial to Kiazim’s health. He required some quiet place, and the Spook asked the Turks what sort of place they preferred, whether mountains, desert, or sea.

“We prefer sea,” said MoÏse, after vainly trying to get the Spook to agree to “a house near the mosque of Ladin in Konia.”

Spook. “Noted.”

MoÏse. “Thank you, Sir. May the mediums choose a place? They want Cairo.”

Spook. “They must go where I send them—ha! ha!”

MoÏse. “May I choose a place out of Turkey? Do you count Egypt in Turkey?”

(This was delightful—it showed MoÏse remembered the Spook’s secret advice to him to “seize the first opportunity of going to Egypt.” But we must not move too fast.)

“It is not yet in Turkey,” said the Spook, and turned to another subject.

The Turks were now settled in their own minds that we would go to some quiet place on the sea-coast. They would have liked “a good time” in Constantinople, but were quite reconciled to a seaside resort. We decided to do more than reconcile them to it—we would make them madly keen to go there. And this is how we did it.

A glance at a map will show whither all this rigmarole was tending. At Yozgad it would be difficult to read AAA’s thoughts because the thought-wave, starting in a left-hand spiral from Constantinople, would be bumped up by the Taurus mountains and the dryness of the desert to the north of them, and would pass very high over Yozgad. Down at the Mediterranean coast things would be simple, for the wave would pass low down over the surface of the sea. The Black Sea would be almost as hopeless as Yozgad, unless we went out a long way from shore to where the wave had again reached the surface of the water. The best time to pick it up would be when it was at its strongest, i.e., in the night.

The next step was to dangle a fresh bait in front of the Turks. We had got the sea—we wanted the boat.

“I have an idea of trying the ‘Four Cardinal Point Receiver’ if you will help,” said the Spook.

MoÏse naturally asked what the “Four Cardinal Point Receiver” might be.

The Spook told us it was a secret method of thought-reading not known in our sphere. It had once been known to the ancient Egyptians (the Pimple pricked up his ears at the mention of Egypt) but the knowledge had been lost. It was based on the principle which we had already learned—“that once a thought has been thought it is always there,” or, in more technical language, the thought-wave once created becomes telechronistic and travels in an eternal spiral in the fourth dimension of space. The method of the Four Cardinal Point Receiver was infinitely preferable to our cumbersome “trance-talk” and “Ouija” methods of thought-reading, because by them you could only read the thoughts of persons you knew existed, whereas by the Egyptian method every thought was accessible to us. “That is to say,” said the Spook, “you can know anything that has ever happened anywhere and at any time. Not only this treasure but all treasures and all knowledge will be revealed.” If we promised to try it, the Spook agreed to tell us how it was done, but it must be kept a profound secret.

We promised, and the secret was revealed. I present it, free of charge, to all mediums, amateur and professional, who happen to be at a loss to invent some fresh leg-pull. Here it is:

Get on to the surface of the sea—preferably in a boat—so as to be on a level with the main body of the thought-wave. Go at night when the wave is at its strongest. Take with you, ready prepared, a drink that is stimulating to the nerves—e.g., coffee. Four of you, facing in different directions, drink quickly and in silence. Then lie down, and pillow your heads on vessels of pure water^[39]—which will help to concentrate the telechronistic wave. Then count three hundred and thirty-three. Having counted, think of a pleasant memory for five minutes. All this to be done with your eyes open. The counting should be aloud, but in a low murmuring tone, and the process of counting up to three hundred and thirty-three and thinking for five minutes must be repeated three times in all, for three is the mystic number in the system. The object so far is to make the mind “receptive.” You next think hard of what you want to discover.

“Then,” said the Spook, “you try to—well, there is no human word for it. It is something like going to sleep, and the sensations are similar, if you are going to be successful. You will drop OUT, as it were. Do you understand?”

“We do not understand the last sentence,” said MoÏse.

“It is difficult,” the Spook said. “Once you have felt it you will understand. It is like dropping to sleep, but it is really dropping out of what you call the present time and place into the past time and place which you willed to see.”

“Are only the mediums able to see, or everybody?”

“It will be all, or none,” said the Spook.

Here was “some offer”! Not merely one treasure, but all treasures would be ours. And Asia Minor, every Turk believes, is full of buried treasure. The stuff hidden before the recent Armenian massacres would be a fortune in itself, and when one thought of the past—of the Greeks, and Romans, and Persians—why! There was no limit to the wealth that lay within our grasp.

“I am so glad we chose the seaside for our holiday,” said the Pimple. “It fits in beautifully.”

“It does,” we agreed.

“But I don’t quite understand about this ‘dropping OUT,’ do you?”

“No,” said Hill slowly. “Seems to be something like a trance. Anyway, the Spook has promised we’ll know all about it when we wake up.”

“Fancy,” said MoÏse, “all treasures and all knowledge! I do hope we can leave Yozgad soon.”

He went off to dream about all the treasures of all time for the few hours that remained of the night.

I looked across the spook-board at Hill. His face was drawn with weariness. SÉances lasted anything up to six hours; it had been a very hard week, and he was pinched and pale with hunger. But his eyes were glittering.

“What do you think?” I asked.

He pulled out of his pocket two little tubes of morphia pills and looked at them reflectively.

“I was wondering,” he said, “how many of these it takes in coffee to kill a man. It would be a pity to murder the Pimple, he’s such a True Believer, and I’d like to get him an introduction to Sir Oliver Lodge.”

“But,” I objected, “when he wakes up and finds himself half way to Cyprus, he won’t be a True Believer any more, and he’ll try to cut Lodge’s throat if he meets him.”

“Don’t you believe it,” said Hill. “True Believers remain True Believers right through everything. When our three wake up they’ll think that OOO is in charge of the boat—that’s all!”