He went to a drawer fitted into a chest, and drew it open to take out a mahogany case in which, lying on blue velvet, were some of the things I had named—knives, and a couple of saws, beside other instruments whose purpose I did not grasp.
“We draw the line at choppers, Dale,” he said, smiling; “and I suppose I ought not to devote my choice instruments to such a duty, but I think these will do.”
“Splendidly!” I cried in delight, as I quite gloated over the bright steel saw. “Why, with one of those I can get a whole board out in an hour or two.”
“Without being heard?”
“I didn’t think of that,” I said. “Let’s see what noise it would make.”
“No,” said Mr Frewen, quietly. “We must wait till night; and it will be a very much longer task than you think, because we shall have to work so slowly.”
“Wait till night!” I cried impatiently.
He nodded, and the dreary, slow way in which the rest of that day passed was terrible. It was as if the sun would never set; but Mr Frewen was right. There were two interruptions to expect—the coming of the man who would bring us our evening meal, a sort of tea-dinner-supper, and possibly a visit from Jarette to fetch Mr Frewen to see the captain.
The man came with our comfortless, unsatisfactory meal, at which I grumbled, but which Mr Frewen said was far better than ordinary prison fare; and just at dark, as he had suggested, we were startled by the sudden rattling at the fastening of our door.
Then Jarette appeared, and signed imperiously to Mr Frewen to follow him.