"Granted, sir, ready. If I was you I'd go to sleep now and do your writing stuff in the morning."
"So I vill," was the response. "Pardon! I vill not vake you again."
Gumley returned to his shakedown and was soon fast asleep.
Nearly two hours later he was wakened by a growl from the dog outside. He got up, opened the outer door, and found Comely trying to get up to the shuttered window of De Fronsac's room.
"Don't like his poetry any more than me, don't 'ee? Come in. We'll tell him 'tis time he was abed."
He closed the door when the dog had entered, and together they went into the prisoner's room. There was still a good deal of smoke in it—but no Frenchman.
"Ahoy!" cried Gumley.
But the dog made a dash back to the front door, and, when Gumley followed and opened it, rushed growling down the garden, where he was brought up by the high fence. Seizing his cutlass, Gumley stumped as fast as he could to the gate.
"Chok' it all!" he muttered. "This is what comes o' losing a leg in the king's name."
It took some little time to draw the bolts and unlock the gate, and when the old sailor got out into the road the fugitive was out of sight. But Gumley thought he heard a man running down the cliff path to the village. Without hesitation he started in pursuit, whistling Comely to his side. Never had that wooden leg moved so fast; but with all his exertion his pace did not exceed that of a quick walk. He was half-way down the path when he heard shots in the distance. Hurrying still more, he came to the village just in time to see a group of men rushing out at the other end, and caught the words "Sandy Cove!"