“You defy me and laugh at me,” said Stackanoff wrathfully. “Very well, I will leave you now and visit your friend. But you shall see me again very soon.”
With a snarl of rage he turned on his heel and left the cell.
“What’s it all about?” asked Tony eagerly. “This lingo’s too much for me, and how you ever picked it up beats me altogether. Get up, you sniveller;” and with an angry growl he hoisted Pierre to his feet once more, for the Frenchman had given way to his fears.
“He’s off to McNeil’s cell, Tony,” Phil answered hurriedly. “I’ll tell you all that passed in good time, but give me a lift into the chimney. I must hear all that happens.”
He sprang to the grate, and, helped by Tony, was soon at the angle. Breathless with his exertions, he climbed still higher, leaning his body well over the sharp edge of brickwork, and listened eagerly. Suddenly there was a clash, the dull hollow echo of which came rushing up the chimney, followed by Stackanoff’s voice.
“I shall be with this prisoner some time,” he said, evidently addressing the jailer. “You and the guards can withdraw. I will hammer on the woodwork when I require you to let me out. Now close the door and dismiss the guard.”
“Now, sir,” he continued, harshly addressing McNeil, when the door had banged. “I have a proposition to make to you, and consider well before you answer it. Liberty is dear to every man, and more so to you, who are sick and wounded. You can buy yours at the price of that man’s life who dragged me from my saddle. Swear that he was a spy then, and that that is his regular employment, and I will set you free. I will myself hand you over to the English sentries.”
An inarticulate cry of rage burst from McNeil’s throat. What followed Phil did not hear, for, suddenly overbalancing in his eagerness, he lost his hold and slipped headlong into the opposite cell, arriving with a crash into the open grate and rolling on to the floor before the astonished eyes of the prisoner and his Russian tempter.