“He’s going to help him get away,” cried Allstone, who was mad with passion.
“Yes, that’s it, boys,” said the man laughing, “that’s why I caught him and kept him till you came up, and that’s why I’m going to tie his arms. Here, give me the rope.”
He snatched the cord from Allstone’s hands, and turned to Hilary.
“Hold up your arms, my lad, and I won’t hurt you. Come, it’s of no use to try and run; we’re too many for you. Never fight your ship when you know you are beaten; it’s only waste of strength. Come, hold up.”
Hilary felt that he had done all that was possible, and, won by his captor’s frank, manly way, he held up his wrists, to have them so tightly and ingeniously tied that he was a prisoner indeed.
As they went back by a short cut through the wood, and one which brought them into a narrow lane, Allstone once found an opportunity to maliciously kick his prisoner, as if by accident; but Hilary’s friend saw the act, and took care that he did not again approach too near; and, after what seemed a weary walk, the little party crossed the moat of the handsome old place. Hilary was led into the great kitchen, and then up-stairs, past flight after flight, to a room at the top with a strongly-bound door. Into this place he was thrust, and Allstone was about to leave him as he was; but the friendly smuggler stepped forward, and began to unfasten the bonds.
“Never mind that,” cried Allstone; “let him stay bound.”
The man paid no heed whatever, but undid the cord, set Hilary free, and then retired, the door being banged to, locked loudly, and secured by a heavy bar thrust clanging across.
The young officer stood staring at the door for a few minutes, and then stamped his foot upon the floor.
“Was ever fellow so unlucky!” he exclaimed. “Lipscombe might have found me out by this time; and when I do get out, I’m caught and brought back. But never mind; if they think I’m beaten they are wrong, for I’ll get out, if only to show Sir Henry what a mean-spirited fellow he is.”