"We are near it to-night but on account of the rocks and reefs, I heard the captain say we would slow down, so as not to enter the harbor until daybreak."
Daybreak! And then? Mr. Heatherbloom closed his eyes; when he again opened them they revealed none of the poignant emotion that had swept over him. "What time is it now?"
"About ten."
"My jailer—the third officer, you say—visits this cell once every night. Do you know what time he comes?"
"I shouldn't be here, Monsieur, at this moment, if I didn't know that. He comes in an hour, after his watch is over, with the bread and water—monsieur's frugal fare. And now"—those apprehensions, momentarily dulled by wonderment seemed returning to Francois—"I will bid monsieur—"
"Stay! One moment!" Mr. Heatherbloom's accents were feverish, commanding. "You must—in the name of the czar!—for the prince's sake!—for hers—for—for the reward—"
"Monsieur!" Again that flicker of indignation.
Mr. Heatherbloom swept it aside. "She has asked you to help her escape?" he demanded swiftly.
Francois did not exactly deny. There were no listeners here. "It would be impossible for her to escape," he answered rather sullenly.
"Then she did broach a plan—one you refused to accede to. What was it?"