“No; there’s no key ’ere.”
“He’s took it to bed with him,” muttered Tom in an injured tone. “It’s outrageous!”
“Can’t you get out through the roof?” asked Dave.
“No, I can’t,” replied Tom; “it’s a lined ceilin’. If it wuz calico or bags I’d cut through ’em an’ find a ’ole somewhere; but it ain’t.”
“What about the floor?” asked Dave; “ain’t there no boards loose? The house is built up on piles ’ere at the back——”
“Is it?” asked Tom, eagerly. “Make sure.”
“Yes,” responded the lieutenant pirate. “If you could lift a couple o’ boards you could crawl out under easy enough.”
“They’re all nailed down,” mourned Tom; “I been tryin’ ’em. Say,” he went on—“how thick is the chain on the winder?”
“It’s only a dawg chain,” said Dave through the crack; “but it’s too strong to break.”
“You won’t have to break it,” responded Tom, “if you can get a file.”