"To-morrow," announced Hans, "you will roll up your blankets. Clean ones will be served out. You will also have to scrub your floor, because the governor of the prison and the medical officers are going to make an inspection."
This was disconcerting news. It was a case of to-night or not at all, for it was quite evident that should the two comrades not succeed in making their escape before the morrow, the visiting authorities would be almost certain to discover the displaced stones in the floor.
Accordingly the Sub continued his preparations. In spite of his hearty appetite he set aside one-half of his day's rations, since it was doubtful whether he would be able to obtain food outside.
Evening came with a furious easterly gale. The wind howled, heavy drops of rain fell in torrents and beat in at the open window, for during the summer months the glass was regularly removed from all the prison cells.
Hamerton welcomed the storm. It was an asset in their favour, although for the time being it was useless to expect to be able to get away from the island in a boat.
"How are you getting on?" he asked, as he crawled into Detroit's cell.
"Guess I've just about shifted those bars," was the American's reply. "The cement was rotten."
"It's too early to make the attempt yet," said the Sub.
"Rather," agreed Detroit; "besides, we haven't made the ropes yet. Bear a hand with this blanket; we'll soon manage that, I think."
"Pretty tough stuff," commented Hamerton, as the property of the German Government was remorselessly torn into strips. "All the same I'd rather have a good piece of manila or three-strand hawserlaid tarred rope. Even a sheet would make a better rope."