"Be sharp, Detroit," he exclaimed. "Unlock that door. That's right. Now help me to secure this lady. She's deaf and dumb, poor creature. Hand up that curtain cord. You tie her ankles while I keep her from hitting you over the head with this rifle."
It was easier said than done. The woman resisted bravely, but at length the American succeeded in passing the cord round her ankles and drawing it tight. Then by their united efforts the two men lowered her gently on to the stone floor.
"Now let's cut," said Hamerton. "If anyone in the next house but one heard the scuffle—— Put the top of that loaf in your pocket before you go."
Into the blinding rain the fugitives made their way, pausing under the lee of a low stone wall in order to get accustomed to the darkness.
"Now there'll be a rumpus," whispered Detroit. "The best thing we can do is to get back to our quarters under the turntable. Since the place is well guarded they won't expect to find us there, especially as they're bound to know that we've been pillaging one of the keepers' cottages."
"That's so," assented Hamerton. "Plucky old woman, that. She would have used that rifle if she had managed to get hold of those cartridges."
"She has, I guess!" exclaimed the American, starting to his feet as a loud report came from the house they had just left. The housewife, unable to make herself heard, had contrived to raise herself by means of the table, seize a cartridge, and throw it on the fire.
"Run for it," hissed the Sub. "We must risk it."
Keeping the lighthouse on their right the fugitives bolted, their one idea being to put a respectable distance between them and the keepers. Already lights were appearing in the cottages and a babel of shouts arose, men enquiring what was amiss, and offering various suggestions as to the cause of the alarm.
Soon the deaf-and-dumb woman was released, and by means of signs told how she had been molested by the two English spies.