“Ah, and there is plenty of rope, my lad; so you advocate hanging?”
“Don’t make a joke of it all, Mr Frewen,” I said, for I felt annoyed at his talking to me in that way, as if I were a mere boy of eight or nine.
“Right,” he said sharply. “We will be wise over it all. Hallo, Mr Brymer is making signs for us to be quiet. The captain is going to speak.”
I looked quickly at the table, and saw that Captain Berriman was standing just below the sky-light, when all at once there was a violent crashing of glass, and I saw pistols held down through the light, while almost at the same moment I heard a rustling noise outside, and leaped up.
“Look out, Mr Frewen,” I whispered; “powder again!”
For the rustling noise had been made by Jarette, who had crept along unnoticed till he could plant a powder-bag, and as I glanced out I saw that he was rapidly laying a train by drawing a second bag of powder after him as he stepped rapidly back towards another man who was carrying a lighted lanthorn—lighted, I felt sure, though in the brilliant sunshine the flicker of the candle inside was hardly visible.
“Quick,” I said; “draw open the door a little more.”
As I spoke I tried to pull the chest away upon which we had been having our meal, but I could not move it, as it was against Mr Frewen’s legs, and kept the door from being opened sufficiently wide in that narrow space for me to pass out.
“Oh, quick—quick!” I whispered.
“Anything the matter there?” cried Mr Brymer.