“This is the sullen one,” she continued. “This is the one who is thinking—thinking, always thinking how he can give me trouble. But I’ll tame your spirit, my lad, if you are here long. I’ve done it with your betters when the smugglers brought them here for safe keeping. So don’t be high and mighty with me or you’ll rue it.”
Ethan made no answer; he stood watching her quietly, and this seemed to rouse her anger; she went muttering away, after a space, and once more left them in darkness.
They grew to know when morning and evening came, for the woman always brought them the bread and water at these times. And with each visit her spite against Ethan seemed to increase; the silence of the young American seemed to anger her beyond measure; once she thrust her arm through the grating and struck at him.
“Faith and you’re no favorite of hers,” chuckled Longsword, when Ethan told him of this after the woman had gone. “It’s too select ye are for her. She seems to like her boarders to be talkative and sociable.”
But the incident gave Ethan an idea. They had been confined in this unwholesome underground den for a week, and the boy had become almost desperate, and was inclined to try almost anything that gave even the faintest hope of escape.
The next time the woman came with their food, he made it a point to stand close to the grating, silent, cold-mannered, watchful. He could see Meg’s eyes snap with anger as she glanced in at him. She shoved the food into his cell; then in a sudden fit of cat-like fury she thrust her arm through the grating once more and aimed a blow at him.
Like lightning the boy grasped her by the wrist, and throwing the full weight of his sinewy young body into the effort, he dragged her close against the cell door and held her fast. She struggled and fought like a tigress, but it was useless. He had but to wrench her arm slightly backward in order to bring a shriek from her.
“Let me go,” she panted, glaring through the grating at him in a fury. “Let me go, I say.”
“I will when you unlock this door.”
“Let go,” cried Meg, resuming her frantic struggles. But a backward twitch of the fast held arm brought a scream of pain from her, and she was quiet once more.