They heard the lock grate and some bolts clang heavily as they were fastened in.
"Bottled!" gasped Herc, truthfully if slangily.
But Ned had pulled out his pocket lantern and was examining the place in which they had been imprisoned. He was struck by something peculiar about it. He reached out a hand and felt the walls. They were smooth and yielding. They had been covered with some soft substance. High up was a small window with thick metal bars.
"What sort of a place is this?" gasped Herc as he, in his turn, felt the yielding, cushioned walls. "These walls feel like the upholstered chairs in the skipper's cabin."
Ned battled with a catch in his voice before he replied. He had grasped the truth of their almost hopeless situation.
"Herc, old boy," he said, putting a hand on his shipmate's shoulder, "brace up for a shock. This place is a deserted lunatic asylum, and they've locked us in what was formerly used as a padded cell for solitary confinement."
[CHAPTER XII.]
"STOP WHERE YOU ARE!"