The gunner shook his head dolefully.
“Whilst our arms are bound we’re helpless,” he answered; “if they were only free, we’d make a dash for liberty. I’ve hurriedly examined the flight of steps by which we entered, and I’ve found that the opening to the outer air is securely closed by an iron door. You may depend upon it that every possible precaution against our escaping has been taken by these villains, for they’ve got their wits about ’em.”
“I expect that Beddoes and the rest of the detachment are on their trail,” I said, “and that is what caused them such alarm. Perhaps we shall be rescued sooner than we think.”
“I hardly think so,” said the gunner dubiously, “for I’m certain that the messenger had travelled a long distance.”
“Then perhaps the main body have got an inkling that something has gone wrong,” I suggested; “Beddoes may have sent a message to Mr. Thompson asking him to push up his forces.”
“There hasn’t been time for all that, Mr. Darcy, when you come to think of it. I shouldn’t say it was more than nine o’clock now, if so much. No, ’tis a mysterious business altogether, and I can’t make head or tail of it, and that’s the truth.”
“You don’t think, Mr. Triggs, that they mean to murder us?”
“Make your mind easy about that, lad. The ghastly deed would have been done before this, I reckon, if they had resolved upon foul play. What their little game is I can’t for the life of me say. ’Tis a plot I’d like to unravel, I can tell you, but I’m all in the dark—all in the dark.”
“I don’t believe that they’re insurgents at all,” I said; “they look for all the world like a gang of—”
“Mum’s the word!” interrupted Mr. Triggs, scrambling nimbly to his feet; “I hear the swabs coming back.” And so saying he took to his heels, and in a moment had disappeared around a projecting part of the cavern wall.