"So did I, sir," was the answer. "Such were your orders—but you can't never tell what will happen. The truth is, sir, Long-Sword has escaped!"
"Escaped! How?—when?" Marbury demanded.
The skipper was plainly much embarrassed—he twirled his cap between his fingers, shuffled his feet, and his glance wandered skyward.
"I don't know, sir—it was sometime between dark and daylight. He was in the cabin, tight enough, with the irons fast on him, when night fell—he was gone, this morning."
"With the irons fast to him?"
"No, sir, with the irons off him, sir, lying on his bunk—and as securely locked as when they were on him. How did he get out of them, sir, how did he get out of them?"
Marbury shook his head. "If you cannot tell, I am sure I cannot."
"Possibly he found the key you lost," observed Parkington.
"I did not lose it in his cabin, sir," said Jamison; "it was found at the foot of the companionway. I picked it up there, myself."