There came a voice from the floor. Had the prisoner divined something of my thoughts?
"... Look here, Sir John, you're up against a nasty job. It's the very devil getting out of here if you don't know the way and haven't practised it."
Something in the young fellow's voice told me that this was not mockery. He was, moreover, the second pilot of the Pirate Ship, trained by Helzephron himself.
"I did not ask you to speak," I answered.
"No, but really it's no end of a stunt. The controls are ten times as sensitive as in an ordinary machine. If you were the best pilot living, you'd find it hard to manage in a ship that's quite new to you, and has all sorts of habits and tricks that no other has."
He spoke truly enough, and I knew it, but it was none the less unpleasant to hear.
"I suppose you're afraid for your damned skin," I sneered.
"Oh, come, draw it mild," he replied. "I only spoke to try and help you. I know when I'm beaten, and I don't bear any malice."
"If I do take you safely out, it will only mean the gallows."
"Oh, no, it won't!" he said. "I shall turn King's evidence. There are lots of things I know that no one else except Vargus knows now. I shall get let off with fifteen years. Bet you a fiver, if you like. It's to my interest to help you out."