“Wot! the descendant o’ the Sea Kings, as he calls himself?”
“The same,” said Henry, laughing at the look of surprise with which Bumpus received this information.
“What has he bin an’ done?”
“He has done nothing as yet,” said Henry; “but he will, certainly thwart our schemes if he hears of them. He has an inveterate ill-will to my poor father;” (Henry lowered his voice as he proceeded,) “and I know has suspicions that we are concocting some plan to enable him to escape, and watches us accordingly. I find him constantly hanging about the jail. Alas! if he knew how thoroughly determined Gascoyne is to refuse deliverance unless it comes from the proper source, he would keep his mind more at ease.”
“Don’t you think if you wos to tell him that Gascoyne is yer father he would side with us?” suggested Bumpus.
“Perhaps he would. I think he would; but I dare not risk it. The easier method will be to outwit him.”
“Not an easy thing for to do, I’m afraid, for he’s a cute old feller. How’s it to be done?” asked Bumpus.
“By telling him the truth,” said Henry; “and you must tell it to him.”
“Well, that is a koorious way,” said Bumpus with a broad grin.
“But not the whole truth,” continued Henry. “You must just tell him as much as it is good for him to know, and nothing more; and as the thing must be done at once, I’ll tell you what you have got to say.”