“Nothing to be done with him to-night,” Hartwell growled. “Let’s leave the little blighter.”
Jacob slept amazingly well. He was awakened by the sound of a soft and insistent whistle below. He sprang up and looked through the aperture. The wind had dropped in the night. Eastwards were long bars of amber and mauve, piercing the faint mist. Below, Lady Mary scarcely rocked in her boat.
“Well, dear guest,” she called up, “how was the spare-room bed?”
“Hard,” he admitted. “Never mind, I’ve slept like a top.”
“Listen,” she continued. “It’s such a wonderful morning that I’ve brought you quite a stock. No one comes in the room, do they?”
“They daren’t,” Jacob answered tersely.
“I’m sending you up some nails and string. What you can’t eat or drink now, you can let hang down. And listen. I’m sending you something else up. Don’t use it unless they get brutal.”
“They’re waiting for me to lose strength!” Jacob chuckled. “I never felt so fit in my life. How high is it from this window?”
“Thirty feet.”
“Why shouldn’t I make a dive for it?” he suggested.