“You have changed your way of making a living, then,” said he. “When I was on the cutter that patrolled this coast there was no hiding-place that required more watching than this.”
He did not wait for the woman’s reply, but turned to the dungeon door behind which Ethan stood and said:
“For the last time, will you answer?”
“I have nothing to say,” answered the boy.
“In a week I will return,” said the spy. “Let us see how you stand this place. I fancy that by that time you will be ready to tell me anything I desire to know.”
And with a disagreeable laugh he followed the others. Ethan heard the stamping of their feet as they climbed the stairs; the light from the receding lamp flickered dimly along the stone passage; then a door slammed heavily and all was dark.
“Well,” called the voice of Longsword, “what do ye think of this, Master Ethan?”
“It looks as though we were in for it, Shamus,” answered Ethan.
Longsword rattled at the grated door of his cell and laughed.
“It was hung here to stay, sure enough,” he said. “It would take a blast of powder to budge it.”