He went and tried to force his head through, recalling as he did that where a person's head would go the rest of the body would pa.s.s. But there was no chance for his body there, the head would not go first.

He returned, after listening intently, unable to hear a sound, and put his ear to the key-hole of the door to listen there; but all was still, and the faint hope that the girl might be near and open to an appeal for his liberty died away.

Again he felt all about the room, to satisfy himself afresh that there was no way out, and he paused by the chimney, half disposed to essay that means of escape, but he shook his head.

"A fellow who was shut up in prison for life might do it," he said, "but not in a case like this."

Then, utterly wearied out, with his long and arduous twenty-four hours'

task, beginning with his watch on the cutter's deck, he felt his way to the big chair opposite to the window to rest his legs, and try and think out some plan.

"n.o.body can think well when he's tired," he said; and he began to run over in his mind the whole of the incidents since he landed a few hours earlier.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"Sure you've looked round everywhere, boy?"

"Yes, father, quite."

"Nothing left nowhere? Sure none of the lads chucked anything aside the path when they ran up?"

"Yes, father. I looked well both sides."

"Humph! Worse lads than you if you knew where to find 'em."

"Thank ye, father."

"I'm going home to breakfast."

"Shall I come too, father?"

"No. Stop here till Sir Risdon comes down, and tell him I'm very sorry; that we should have cleared out last night, only a born fool saw Jerry Nandy's lobster-boat coming into the cove, and came running to say it was a party from the cutter."

"Yes, father."

"Tell him not to be uneasy; 'tis all right, and I'll have everything clear away to-night."

The dull sound of departing steps, and a low whistling sound coming down through the skylight window into the cabin where Archy Raystoke lay with his heavy eyelids pressed down by sleep.

"What a queer dream!" he thought to himself. "No; it couldn't be a dream. He must be awake. But how queer for Mr Gurr to be talking like that to Andrew Teal, the boy who helped the cook! And why did Andy call Mr Gurr father?"

There was an interval of thinking over this knotty question, during which the low whistling went on.

"If Mr Brough goes on deck and catches that boy whistling, there'll be someone to pay and no pitch hot," thought Archy nautically. "But what did Mr Gurr mean about going home to breakfast? And I'm hungry too.

Time I was up, I suppose."

He gave himself a twist, and was about to turn out of his sleeping place, and then opened his eyes widely, and stared about him, too much overcome still by his heavy sleep to quite comprehend why it was that he was in a gloomy, oak-panelled, poorly furnished room, staring at an iron-barred open window.

No: he was not dreaming, for he was looking out on the sea, over which a faint mist hung like wreaths of smoke. It was just before sunrise too, for there were flecks of orange high up in the sky.

What did it mean?

The answer came like a flash. He recollected it all now, even to his sitting down in the chair, wearied out.

He had been fast asleep, and those words had awakened him.

What did they say?--false alarm--tell Sir Risdon they would clear all away to-night--see if anything had been left about--lobster-boat!

Then no boat had come from the cutter last night, and the lieutenant would wait for him to signal, and here he was a prisoner, with the information--locked up--the very news the lieutenant would give anything to know.

He jumped up from the chair feeling horribly stiff, and looked steadily round for a way to escape before it was too late. Once out of that room he could ran, and by daylight the smugglers dare not hunt him down.

"Oh, those bars!" he mentally exclaimed, and he was advancing toward them, when just as he drew near, there was a rustling noise under the window, a couple of hands seized the bars, there was a scratching of boot-toes against stone work, and Ram's face appeared to gaze into the room by intention, but into the astonished countenance of the young midshipman instead.

Ram was the first to recover from his surprise.

"Hullo!" he said, "who are you? I was wondering why that window was open."

"Here, quick! Go round and open the door. I was shut in last night by mistake."

"Oh!" said Ram looking puzzled. "I saw you last night, and wondered whose boy you was. It was you father kicked for shirking, and--My!-- well: I hardly knowed you."

"Nonsense! Come round and open the door. I've been shut in all night."

"Won't do," said Ram grinning. "Think I don't know you, Mr Orficer?

Where's your fine clothes and your sword? Here, what made you dress up like that?"

"You're mistaken," said Archy gruffly, as he made a feeble struggle to keep up the character he had a.s.sumed.

"Won't do," said Ram quickly. "I know you. Been playing the spy, that's what you've been doing. Who locked you in?"

"Will you come round and open the door?" said Archy in an angry whisper.

"Oh, of course," replied the boy grinning; and he dropped down, rushed through the bushes, and disappeared from view.

Archy stepped back to the door listening, but there was not a sound.

"He has gone to give the alarm," thought the prisoner, and he looked excitedly round for a way of escape.

Nothing but the chimney presented itself. The door was too strong to attack, and he remembered the three fastenings.

Should he try the chimney?

And be stuck there, and dragged out like a rabbit by the hind legs from his hole!

"No; I've degraded myself enough," he said angrily, "and there are sure to be bars across. Hah!"