"I am late at my tryst," whispered the red captain, "but I could not manage it sooner. Now we must haste, or 'twill be too late forever." He grinned. "I see your beard has grown somewhat," he said. "Perchance those bristles shall serve well. You are an ill man to disguise. Who is here?" he asked as he caught sight for the first time of Melton, who had not awakened.
"A poor crazed English sailor," Polaris answered. He crossed the chamber, with Rombar at his heels; for he had stopped to undo the rope.
"What? The brute, too?" groaned Oleric.
"I fear we must," Polaris said. "If I leave him, he will rouse the prison with his howling, and I will not slay him. He has been too good a friend. Can we not manage to take him?"
"Aye; bring him," grumbled the captain. "First fetch yonder light."
Janess took down the globe. As he swung it toward Oleric, he saw that the hands of the captain were splashed red with blood. Oleric noted his glance.
"Dead men are behind us," he said. "Thrice to-night have I used my sword—once at the mines, where I got Everson, and twice above. Two of the men of Mordo will turn no more prison keys. Come!"
He stepped cautiously out through the door.
Polaris glanced across to where the mad Cockney lay breathing heavily.
"Some day, if it be given me, I will open this door again and set you free, John Melton," he whispered.