“Aren't there any more about?” I asked. “There were more than three left in the gang.”
“If there had been more of us, you'd never have got in,” growled one of the prisoners.
“Where's Barkhouse?” I asked.
“Find him!” was the defiant reply.
We began the search, opening one room after another. Some were sleeping-rooms, some the meeting-rooms, while the one we had first entered appeared to be the guard-room.
“Hello! What's this?” exclaimed Corson, tapping an iron door, such as closes a warehouse against fire.
“It's locked, sure enough,” said Owens, after trial.
“It must be the place we are looking for,” I said. “Search those men for keys.”
The search was without result.
“It's a sledge we must get,” said Owens, starting to look about for one.