"Show a light!"
The voice was nearer than before, and the three boys lifted to their feet and moved toward the window, which was just above where they had been sitting. Frank was about to throw himself out into the storm when a muscular hand seized him by the arm.
"Nothing doing!" a voice said in his ear.
"If you move again, or try to answer the call, that will be the last of one Black Bear. Remain silent while I talk with your friends."
"Our friends?" repeated Frank.
"Certainly," was the reply—given with a chuckle. "Your very good friends from the American ship in the harbor."
There was torture in the words, in the fierce grip on the arm. The promised assistance had arrived and the boys were powerless to make their perilous situation known!
But a hopeful thought came to the brain of the boy as he was dragged away from the open window. It was barely possible that Ned had escaped, that he knew of the peril his friends were in, and would arrive before the Americans were, by some treacherous falsehood, sent away.
"Nestor!" cried the voice outside. "Are you there? Show a light."
There was a rustle in the room, then black silence.