"I'll break the loop. Are you ready, sir?"
"Quite."
For perhaps two minutes the room echoed and re-echoed with the metallic din of hammering. The chisel was of finely tempered steel, and Armstrong compensated the lightness of the hammer by the vigour of his blows. A link snapped, the chain clanked upon the floor, and the prisoner stood up, free.
"Very neatly done," said he. "And now I will go below and join you and your companions in a council of war."
"There are only two of us now, sir," said Armstrong. "Warrender didn't come back."
As they went downstairs he related succinctly the events of the last three-quarters of an hour. Mr. Pratt made no comment. Entering first the room at the bottom, he threw a glance on the printing press, the piles of paper, and the Swede glowering on the floor; then he turned to his nephew.
"Well, Percy, what is going on?" he asked.
"Nothing, Uncle. I haven't seen any of the men. D'you think they see the game is up, and have bolted?"
"I think not, judging by what your friend has just told me. It appears that they have captured the other man--Warrender, I think you called him--and they know that you two are here. It seems improbable that they will decamp already. They outnumber you hopelessly, and it is more than likely that there is a large number of forged notes in the tower which they will secure if they can."
"Well, as the coast seems clear, can't we get away?" asked Percy. "We came to rescue you; our job's done."