Chapter Twenty One.
Temptation.
There was something ludicrous in the struggle that had taken place, especially as Hilary had so thoroughly won the day; but at the same time there was a very unpleasant side to his position. It was in the middle of the night and very dark, save in one corner of the stone-floored place where the remains of the heap of straw displayed a few sparks, and sent up a thin thread of smoke, which rose to the ceiling and there spread abroad, the rest having passed away, driven out by the draught caused by the open door. He had not a scrap of furniture; the straw was all burned, and the floor of his prison was stone.
Still there was one good thing upon his side—one which afforded Hilary the most intense satisfaction, and this was the fact that he had secured the cutlass. Not that he wanted it for fighting, though it might prove useful in case of need for his defence; but it suggested itself to him as being a splendid implement for raising one of the stones in the floor, with which help he might possibly get into the cellars or vaults below, and so escape.
“But I don’t like going to sleep on the stones,” said Hilary to himself, and tucking the cutlass under his arm, he felt the flooring in different places.
To his surprise he found it perfectly dry, for the intensely strong spirit had burned itself completely out, leaving not so much as a humid spot; and after climbing up to look out at the dark night, Hilary saw that the fire was as good as extinct, and ended by sitting down.
The stones were very cold, but he felt weary, and at last so intense a desire to sleep came upon him that he lay down, and in spite of the hardness of his couch and the fact that he had no pillow but his arm, he dropped off into a heavy sleep, from which he did not awaken till the sun was shining in through the window upon the smoke-blackened walls.
Hilary’s first thought was concerning his cutlass, which was safe by his side, and jumping up, he listened. Then he went to the door and listened again, but all was perfectly still.
What was he to do? he asked himself. He felt sure that Allstone would come before long, and others with him, to obtain possession of the weapon, and he was equally determined not to give it up. He might fight for it, but, now that he was cool, he felt a repugnance against shedding blood; and, besides, he knew that he must be overcome by numbers, perhaps wounded, and that would make a very uncomfortable state of things ten times worse.
The result was that he determined to hide the cutlass; but where?