"Escape from this retreat directly into the Grandfather's Right Arms?" Pat asked gently.
Comstock stopped struggling with his bonds for a moment as he considered what she had said. "If we can fend off this 'Picaroon' until about eleven-thirty tomorrow then we can make a dash for Bowdler's house.
"I think that's our only chance, and a slim one it is."
Almost twelve hours ahead of them, at the mercy of a madman, before they could dare run the daylight gauntlet of the outdoors, under the menace of the R.A.'s. Comstock shuddered. The risk was tremendous, yet what else was there that they could do? He couldn't bear the thought of staying here in the Picaroon's Haven right around the clock, he didn't think he could stand twenty-four hours more of the nerve racking strain he was undergoing, even though that might be a more intelligent plan to attack.
Roughly twelve hours more, one way, and a full twenty-four the other....
Pat said, when she saw his brow furrowed with painful thought, "Now's the time to think of my name."
"Huh?" he said, not very intelligently.
"Patience and Fortitude, remember?"
He had the patience, the only question was whether or not he had the fortitude to put up with the Picaroon's mad fantasies.
At length the secret door opened and the man he was brooding about entered, bowed down with an even more useless collection of stolen objects than the ones which already burdened the room.