"Have you got your wind yet, Harry?"
"Then follow me. I can see a sort of archway in the prison wall, and a boat, I think."
"Hah!" cried Harry, "I remember."
And turning easily over, he shot out for the prison wall.
A few strokes brought them in sight of a flight of stone steps under the archway.
And as they catch sight of the steps on ahead, they become conscious that they are being pursued by another of those ravenous beasts of which Barthes and Fleon were talking in such cruel levity.
"Quicker, Harry, quicker, old lad!" gasps young Jack.
"Right; I see."
Three vigorous strokes, and Harry grasps a chain fastened to a staple in the wall to which a boat is moored.
He is on the steps.