“Yes. Why?”
“One small blade would not be strong enough, but if two were thrust into the back of those irons together we might be able to open them. I believe all these fetters are opened by a square key, and I’m going to try.”
“Ah, yes; do.”
“Once get you free, we could pass the time climbing up the natural staircase, and get a look out from the top at the fresh green trees and clear sky.”
Aleck’s attempt to take his companion’s attention was successful, inasmuch as after the production of the knives, and the changing the position of the opened lanthorn so that the dim light should do its best in illuminating the rusty anklet and chain, the midshipman began to take some feeble interest in the proceedings.
Aleck knew as much about handcuffs and fetters as he did about the binomial theorem, but he was one of those lads who are always ready to “have a try” at anything, and, after examining the square deeply-set holes which secured the anklets, he placed the two pen-blades of the knives together, forced them in as far as they would go, and tried to turn them.
The first effort resulted in a sharp clicking sound.
“There goes the edge of one blade,” said the lad, coolly. “I hope it’s your knife, and not mine. Hullo! Hooray! It turns!”
For the blades held fast, jammed as they were into the angles of the orifice, and the operator was able to turn the knives half way, and then all the way round.
“Now try,” said the midshipman, beginning to take deep interest in the attempt.