Hour after hour glided by. The meal had long been ended, and the men were gone outside, but never all at once; always one stayed, sometimes two. Then Martin kept bustling in and giving orders. Once too Sir Harry came in and entered into a discussion with the skipper, apparently, from the few words that Hilary could catch, concerning the advisability of making some excursion; but there seemed to be some hindrance in the way, and Hilary’s heart beat high with hope as he heard the word “cutter” spoken twice.
It was not much to hear; but it was good news for Hilary, who concluded that the vessel must still be lying off the coast, and in the smugglers’ way.
At last, however, the conversation ended, and Hilary saw Sir Henry leave the place just as Allstone came in.
This made the young man’s heart beat again, for either the fellow had come to announce his evasion, or else he was about to take food into the old chapel, when, of course, he would find his prisoner gone.
But no: he spoke quite calmly to the skipper, and after a short consultation they went out.
Just then the noise of wheels and the trampling of horses could be heard outside, facts which pointed to the leaving of one or more of the party.
Two of the men were still hanging about, but at last they also went, and Allstone came in and seated himself thoughtfully upon a bench.
By-and-by, though, he cut himself some food, hesitated, and proceeded to cut some more, which he placed in a coarse delf plate.
“My breakfast!” said Hilary to himself, and he wondered how soon the man would go to the chapel to present it to his prisoner.
This would be the signal for Hilary’s escape, and, anxiously waiting till the man had finished his own repast, the young officer made up his mind to run to the window, climb out, and then trust to his heels for his liberty.