"'Of course we may stumble upon a boat," continued Hamerton. "In that case we'll appropriate her without the slightest compunction, get under way, and trust to luck to be picked up by a passing steamer. A few miles either to the north or south, and we'll be right in the regular steamer tracks across the North Sea."
"But the searchlights?" objected Detroit. He was game enough for any enterprise, but with natural caution he preferred to weigh up the risks.
"If we start just before dawn we need not worry about searchlights. I noticed they ceased operations at 4 a.m. the other day. We ought to be able to put five miles between us and the rock before it is light enough for them to spot us."
"All right, then!" assented the American. "But we're not out of the wood yet. What's the next performance?"
"I'm off back to my cell. Take care to replace the stone carefully and fill up the joints with dust. I'll leave you this little tool—I can't let you have the handle, for, as you see, it's the leg of a stool. If you feel particularly energetic, old man, you might start at the sockets of the window bars. You'll have to be very cautious. Do they march you out for exercise?"
"Every day. Why?"
"I have an hour of it also. Thus I was able to take stock of the building. Your window is directly above a flight of steps; mine is some distance clear of it. Consequently your window is the more convenient one for us to tackle."
"I'll have a slog at it."
"Good! Well, I'm off. Au revoir till to-morrow night!"
The next day passed in a most tedious fashion. Hamerton was on thorns more than once, for in his heated imagination he fancied that his jailers purposely prolonged their visits to his cell.