Besides these, there were no objects in the room or shed beyond a few badly-filled sacks which rested against the wall.
They looked anxiously about them.
Nearly facing the place where they had made their entrance was a door, and this they tried without a moment's loss of time.
Fast.
Immovable.
"The window, then," said Harry Girdwood.
Back they ran on tip-toe to the window, and pushing open the casement, they looked out.
The sea.
Between thirty and forty feet below, and lashing the very base of the prison.
They turned to each other simultaneously.