“Be still, you Irish hound!” hissed the spy; “or I’ll have you stretched across a grating, and let you see how the boatswain can use the cat.”
“Arrah, don’t go to any bother on my account,” said the dragoon coolly. “I am willing enough to believe that the gentleman is an artist wid the cat-o’-nine-tails. Your word, sir, is enough for me.”
But Danvers paid no attention to him. Bending over Ethan, he said:
“For the last time, will you tell me where the dispatch is hidden?”
“For the last time,” said Ethan boldly, “I answer that I do not know.”
The emissary of the crown remained staring in his face for a moment; then he turned away; his footsteps sounded upon the ladder, the hatch above was closed and they were left once more in darkness.
CHAPTER XIII
HOW THE SPY LOST HIS PRISONERS
In the pale dawn of the early morning the tender dropped anchor in a small cove, and the two prisoners were brought upon the deck. The leg irons had been removed, but their arms were still chained behind them.
Once more they were placed in a small boat, and were rowed ashore. Under guard of Danvers and a couple of seamen they were marched through the streets of a small, poor-looking town, and at last brought to a halt before a gloomy, half-ruined stone building. Danvers knocked loudly upon the door.
“This,” said he, turning to Ethan and Longsword as he waited for the door to be opened, “is to be your place of residence until such time as you make up your mind to tell me what has become of the dispatch.”