Apparently his scruples returned again; he stood irresolute in the cell doorway, turning the searchlight on its yet unawakened occupant.
Peter swooped down from behind.

His hands gripped the rescuer's ankles; he heaved swiftly, at the same time lunging forward with head and shoulders, with all the force of his small, seasoned body behind the effort.

The Samaritan toppled over, sprawling on his face within the cell.

With a heartfelt shriek the legal occupant leaped from his bunk and landed on the intruder's shoulder blades.

Peter slammed shut the door; the spring lock clicked.
The searchlight rolled, luminous, along the floor; its glowworm light showed Poole's unmasked and twisted face.