The person addressed—he was the man who had bungled with the signals on the occasion of the attempt to blow up Poldene Bridge—went out, to return presently with the information that everything appeared quiet.
"It is well," rejoined the leader of the gang. "Now to settle with these meddlesome interlopers."
"It is easier said than done," remarked another.
The sub was taking stock of his surroundings. In a corner, and protected to a certain extent by an overthrown table, stood Entwistle, seemingly unperturbed at the danger that confronted him. Instead of two suspects there were four powerfully built men to be reckoned with.
"We'll wait till it's quite dark," resumed the last speaker, "and then these Englanders will be able to test the depth of the shaft. It is better than having recourse to pistol shots; and if their bodies are ever found, well, it will be concluded that they have met with a regrettable accident."
"Why wait?" grumbled Schranz. "Everything is clear outside. Every moment is precious, if we are to get away with whole skins."
"All right," assented the leader. "Two of us will be sufficient to keep the old one in order; you others can remove the young one. Don't be long about it."
With pistols in their hands the two Huns detailed to guard Entwistle covered their prisoner, while the others, seizing Farrar, began to haul him out of the cottage, despite a strenuous resistance on the part of the sub.
So fierce was the struggle that Entwistle's guards turned their heads to watch the fracas. It was exactly what the Secret Service man was waiting for. Without removing his right hand from his hip pocket he fired two shots in rapid succession.
With a yell one of his captors leapt a couple of feet into the air and fell in a huddled mass upon the earth floor.