For just then he heard the tramp of feet over the boarded floor, the flinging open of the first door, then the steps in the passage, and he altered his opinion.
“No!” he exclaimed; “it’s old Allstone coming after his cutlass.”
He was quite right, for, well-armed, and followed by four men, Hilary’s jailer entered the place, glanced sharply round, and exclaimed:
“I’ve come for that cutlass.”
“Have you?” said Hilary coolly.
“Hand it over.”
“I have not got it,” said Hilary coolly.
“Don’t tell me lies,” said the fellow roughly. “Here, lay hold.”
Five to one was too much for resistance, so Hilary submitted patiently to the search that was made, to see if he had it concealed beneath his clothes.
“There’s nothing here,” said one of the men; and Allstone tried himself, flinching sharply as the prisoner made believe to strike at him.